The Slightly Insane and Random Thoughts of Teen
by petrelli heiress
Summary: Basically me if I went into the Heroes universe. Rated T in case of SLASH and other...explicit scenes.
1. How I Almost But Not Really Got Killed

**The Slightly Insane and Sometimes Random Thoughts Of A Teenage Girl**

**By A. Nonymous**

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Heroes. Not even a little bit.

**Chapter One: **How I Almost (But Not Really) Got Killed By A Knife-Wielding Maniac

Hello, people, and welcome to my life. First I will begin by describing the ravishing creature you see before you. And I'm taking that artistic license that all writers are allowed to use far and beyond its usual capacity by using the word ravishing.

By today's standard I am certainly no oil painting, unless you count some pictures of Picasso. See today's standard of beauty (i.e. stick thin with the added impossibility of large breasts) is far from what I look like. Okay, on second thought, I might have the breasts down but the stick thin part? Nah-ah. Not this girl. I am strictly a plus-size girl, myself, which makes shopping an ordeal. I mean, have seen the size of some of the clothes shops are selling these days? What do they think we eat? Air?

Anyway, to get back to that description you were so desperate to hear. As has already been stated I am a plus-size girl, strictly XL or thereabouts. That's Extra Large for the dipsticks out there who only know about that size called S. To put it to you straight: I am a fat girl. Yes, people, she said that horrid word: fat! Not to say that I wouldn't love to be skinny but I just can't give up the things I love to eat. Namely chocolate...and almonds...and chocolate-covered almonds...Anyway. I am also incredibly lazy when it comes to that other dreaded word: exercise. I mean, don't get me wrong, I love walking. It's great. But don't even talk to be about (*shudder*) press-ups...or sit-ups...or (horror of horrors) running.

Now here come the specifics: I have short brown hair and blue eyes, which, according to my bossy great-aunt, are often sad. And when I look in the mirror, which is much more than you'd expect of a girl like me, they do seem sort of sad. Not that I'm a sad girl. Au contraire! I am actually pretty happy chappy. And yes I realise how sad that sounds.

My nails are shocking, my feet are ugly, my nose is average as are my ears, and my skin is the whitish-pinkish colour common amongst all British descendents. Not that I'm British. I'm, I am proud to say, a New Zealander. New Zealand, if you are unfamiliar with that country, is near Australia. And it is not part of the aforementioned country. In any way, shape or form. Don't even think about going there. Not that I have a problem with Australians. I hear they are very nice people. I just like people to get their facts straight.

Now that you know vaguely what I look like I'll begin by telling you why I'm writing this at all. Because on the day I was to leave home forever (a sad day, believe me) something happened that would change the course of my life forever. And I mean forever.

It started out as (watch out, people, cliché ahead!) an ordinary day. Nothing untoward happened from 10 o'clock to noon. But then nothing ever happened to me. My sixteenth birthday: nothing. My _eighteenth_ birthday: nothing. Each Christmas: nothing. I hadn't even had sex. But then every boy I've ever meet seems to only be interested in girls who epitomise today's standard of beauty (for definition see above). Go figure.

So I wasn't expecting anything, even though it was the day I left home forever. My house is basically an ordinary house. Four bedrooms (well, actually my bedroom was once a sun room), kitchen, dining room, living room, bathroom, toilet, laundry. It is on a street that would be ordinary of people would stop using it as a shortcut and speeding down it, killing harmless animals while they're at it. That street is in a small town, complete with a cinema, incredibly tiny shopping centre and a park. And that town is in a tiny, insignificant country that no one knows about except as the birthplace of the Flight of the Concords and Peter Jackson. So you can see why nothing ever happened to me.

I usually spent my days, including this particular day, watching movies and television, with sporadic periods of reading (not subtitles, actual books). At noon exactly I was watching reruns of season two episodes of _Heroes_, so I could sustain myself through the long weeks until I could return and watch the episode my sister had recorded for me. I was currently watching the season finale, _Powerless_, and it was up to the part when Maya shouts, "You killed my brother!" and Sylar turns around and shoots her when there was a knock at the door.

Because the TV in the living room faces the window I had the curtains closed. So I had to open the curtain to see who it was. I was alone in the house since my dad, sister and brother had disappeared two hours ago acting very mysterious. So I had decided not to open the door but instead to at first see who it was. This was easy since our door is made of glass. And glass, as we all know, is see-through.

I was glad I'd decided that because the man at the door (yes, he was a man) had a knife in his hand and he brandished it threateningly. I have never been confronted with a man wielding a knife unpromisingly so I didn't know until that moment how I'd react. I screamed.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Yes, I know that there was glass between me and him but you can't expect me to be logical when a knife-wielding maniac (or so I assumed) tried to attack me.

The man paused. I kept screaming.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

He looked irritated and glanced at his watch. Noticing none of this I kept screaming.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

He tapped his foot impatiently and glanced at his watch again. At last I noticed that he didn't seem to want to him kill me. There were two options open to me: a) stop screaming and being able to speak, or b) continue screaming and most likely lose my voice. No surprise there. I chose the first option.

I stopped screaming. We looked at each other and I noticed something very familiar about him. Something about his eyebrows...I glanced at the TV screen. And then back at the man. And back at the TV. Then at the man again. "_No_," I said, a smile spreading over my face. "Are you..._Zachary Quinto_?"

The man looked confused. "Who?"

Okay, my first choice had been incorrect. I tried again. "Are you...Milo Ventimiglia?"

More confusion. "What?"

"Adrian Pasdar?"

"_Huh_?"

Okay. New approach. I closed my eyes. And opened them. "You're not...are you _Sylar_?"

The man seemed relieved. "She said you'd know me. Now could you open the door?"

I snorted and secretly filed away this 'she' business. "_You _expect _me_ to let you in? A certified serial killer? Nah-ah. No way. I enjoy my life. I don't want to lose it by doing something as clichéd as opening the door to a stranger. Plus, you brandished a knife at me in a threatening manner."

I couldn't believe I was talking to Sylar (_Sylar!!_) in such a way. So I expected the sigh and the following, "I expected this. But I made a promise and I intend to keep it," and the ensuing unlocking of the door using just the power of his mind.

I froze. I tried to move, to run, to do anything but...nothing. I couldn't move an inch. I finally fully understood that cliché 'You never know how you're going to react until it actually happens.' I made a mental note to find whoever had first said that and kill them, even if it meant going back thousands of years.

He stood in front of me, the step up into the house the only object between us. We looked at each other. And I did something incredibly stupid, something I never thought I'd ever do: I fainted. Me. Fainted. Thank the powers that be that he caught me otherwise my skull would have cracked open on the side of the door. Yeah, from that experience I learned that I do not fall gracefully. Or well.

I can't tell you what happened after that since I was unconscious but from what I found out later he disappeared into thin air and, a few minutes later, Dad, Ann and Leo arrived home to find an empty house with the door gaping eerily. The rest you'll find out as I do. So there.


	2. How I Met The Cockroach Monster

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Heroes. Not even a little bit.

**Chapter Two: **How I Screamed My Head Off At The Cockroach Monster And Met Milady

I woke up on a bed that felt like my own, except softer. I'll describe it now or, knowing myself the way I do, I'll forget. It was one of the four-poster monstrosities, like in Harry Potter. Except that it was way cooler and had curtains which blocked out the light.

I turned on to my back and smiled. I opened my eyes and tried not to puke. There was a giant cockroach on the ceiling of the four-poster, staring down at me (can cockroaches stare? Do they have eyes?). It was ugly and seemed to glisten with some icky goo-like substance.

Knowing that I could not combat such a monster I did the only thing I could, hoping that someone would hear me. I screamed.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

My screaming seemed to have some sort of effect on the creature and it flew (it could fly!) out from under the ceiling and landed on the floor. I continued to scream just in case it would have more of an effect, like scaring it out of the room.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Instead it seemed to aggravate the fiend and it began to convulse. It seemed to tear itself apart and out of its shell appeared a man. I was so shocked I stopped screaming.

"You aren't..._Mohinder Suresh_, are you?" I asked, surprised and not a little disgusted, let me tell you.

The man stepped out from inside the discarded shell and nodded calmly. "I'm sorry I scared you. I sometimes have that effect on people."

"I can't...can't see why." Good to see those sarcasm nodes are still working.

He smiled at me. I felt a little better and that was when I noticed that I had different clothes on. This fact filled me with more fear than the cockroach monster ever had.

"Who...who dressed me?" I asked Mohinder, who was disposing of the discarded shell. That was nice of him.

"Probably Sylar."

I went pale. Literally. I could feel myself go cold inside. _Sylar_ had undressed me. I was mortified.

At that moment the door opposite the bed opened and Sylar entered. I felt my face blush. I wondered if you could get a fever if you went from cold to hot as quickly as I did.

He seemed concerned. This made me even more embarrassed since I knew that my scream had been pretty loud and had probably interrupted him at some important job.

"Are you okay?" he asked, stepping into the room. Spotting Mohinder, he sighed. "Mohinder, what did I say about scaring the visitors?"

Mohinder shrugged, caring not a whit. I wondered at the familial relationship between them; Sylar seemed to speak to him as though to a younger brother. As you probably know Sylar had killed Mohinder's father, Chandra Suresh. And I'm pretty sure that Mohinder was the elder of the two. Since I was still trying to recovering from my embarrassment I decided not to ask. Don't quote me on that, though.

Mohinder left as Sylar sat down beside me. "Sorry about that," he said. "Mohinder can be a bit of a ...pig sometimes."

"Hmm," I said, wrapping my arms around my legs. My stomach growled, which as I'm sure everyone knows meant, "Food. Give Me. Now."

"Well," he said, standing up. "It seems to me that we should be going. She doesn't like being kept waiting."

Because I had nothing else to say, and to cover up another stomach growl, this one louder, I asked, "Who's 'she'?"

He smiled and my heart fluttered. It had never done that before so I immediately thought I had some sort of heart problem, as anyone would. I'd never been in love before (not that this was love) so you can forgive me for that (now I look back) extremely silly thought.

He gave me his hand to get out of bed. And didn't let go. Even as we headed out into the corridor. My treacherous heart fluttered again.

We walked down the white-washed corridor. As soon as I'd left my dark room I'd been blinded by the pure whiteness of it and had to blink back tears. I wasn't crying, I assure you. Just blinded by the light. Hehe.

We went through numerous doors which all looked exactly alike, walked down identical corridors and eventually stopped at a pair of doors which looked like I'd imagine throne room doors would look like. I wondered how I'd find my way back to my room which immediately turned into would I even be going back to that room.

Sylar glanced back at me and, seeing I was fine (was the guy _blind_ or was my face a really good liar?), opened the door on the left. The room (which will henceforth be known as the throne room, which is the best name for it) was even brighter than the corridors had bee. Which is to say, very bright. I mean, blinded-by-the-light bright couldn't even come close.

I heard Sylar yell, "Turn down the light!" and the light immediately left the room until all that was left was the light emanating from two light bulbs on the ceiling. Thank the powers that be (and Sylar) otherwise I think I might have gone blind.

"Sorry!" The voice came from on high. And yes I do see the irony. But this voice was female and came from, after closer inspection, a contraption that had been hoisted up on side of the room. And that room? Amazing. Each wall was encrusted with various jewels. Sapphires, Emeralds, Rubies, Amethysts. It was incredibly ugly.

The woman descended from the contraption slowly and, once she was on terra firma, noticed the look on my face. "Yes," she said, wiping her hands on a dirty cloth. "It's not to my taste either. I wanted something a little more...subtle but my predecessors seemed to like it. I guess that shows more about them than it does about me."

She came forward out of the obscure darkness and into the light. I gasped. She looked exactly like my sister, Ann. Down to the tiniest detail. I wondered if she liked chicken as much as Ann. I doubted it. No one liked chicken as much as Ann. I think that, if given the opportunity, Ann would eat only chicken for the rest of her life.

"Hi," she said, holding out her hand for me to shake. "I'm Crystal White. But everyone just calls me Milady. I run what you know as the Company."

She smiled at me and I could tell she was waiting for a reaction of some kind. If I had been in my right frame of mind (i.e. not me) I would have asked her why she looked exactly like my sister. Since I wasn't I asked a question I thought was important. "What about Mrs. Petrelli? What happened to her?"

I saw something in her eye, which quickly left them, that made me think that she knew more than what she was telling, which was, "I'm afraid that she had a heart attack a few years ago and sadly didn't survive. I took over the Company after she left. Chain of command and all that."

If you knew me you'd know that I do not see feelings in people's eyes everyday so, of course, I thought that Sylar had also seen it. I turned to him, to see the effect mentioning his mother's death had had on him (and to surreptitiously see if he had noticed) and found that he hadn't noticed. You know how I knew? Because he'd been looking at my hand in his. Another treacherous flutter from than slutty heart of mine. Again I noticed this while it seemed to miss Milady completely.

To tell you the truth I was a little shocked at this. I mean, I usually miss things so to be the one person in the room to actually see anything was a big plus. Anyway, to get back to what I was saying...

I nodded and asked a more important question, namely, "Why am I here?"

Milady's smile stayed fixed on that face-that-looked-exactly-like-Ann-it-was-just-so-creepy. Except that it seemed nicer, if you get my drift. "That is a very good question. You have a very important role to play in events to come. I had need of you here so I had Sylar bring you."

Now, knowing me as you do, you will understand when I said, incredulously, "Me? Don't you think you might have got the wrong person? I'm me, I'm nobody. Well, nobody important anyway."

Milady's smile widened. "That's what you think, Rebecca Mackenzie. You are, in fact, the key to the whole plan, which makes you a very important person indeed. But," she added, rubbing her hands together. "We don't need to get in to details right now. I'm sure you'll want to rest and, if you feel the need, you can explore the city later today."

"What city?" I asked.

"Why, New York City." Milady smiled at my curiosity. She seemed to do a lot of smiling. I wondered whether her smile was a mask hiding something worse. Since none of my theories ever pan out I'm guessing not.

Since I am, by nature, not a terribly enthusiastic person (except of course when it is something really important like winning a scholarship) I did not jump up and down like a maniac, screaming, "New York! New York! New York!" Not much, anyway.

Milady told me to wait outside while she spoke to Sylar. Unlike a lot of people I don't mind taking orders; I find thinking for myself quite a chore. But, since I'm not entirely stupid, I didn't close the door completely as I left. This meant that I could listen to their conversation without them having a clue. Yah me!

"Be nice to her, Sylar," Milady said softly as if someone (not me) could be listening.

"Me?" Sylar asked, surprised. "I'm always nice."

I could hear the smile in her voice. "I know you are. But be extra nice to her. Do anything she says, okay? She is crucial to the plan and must be kept ignorant of her true purpose. Otherwise..."

"...she'll freak," Sylar finished. "I understand."

"I knew you would."

I closed the door gently and took a few steps back so that my back was to the other side of the corridor. I pondered the conversation I'd just heard and the situation I was currently in. This is a list I made later:

Pros:

-I got to hang out with Sylar

-I got to see New York City

-I had a really nice bed

-I got to see what happened to all the Heroes

Cons:

-I didn't know why I was here

-That plan Milady had spoken of sounded as if it had seriously bad consequences for me

-I think Milady killed Mrs. Petrelli and Sylar doesn't know

-A giant cockroach wanders around the place

-I can't escape

It looked to me that I was in seriously big trouble. Just a hunch.

I waited for Sylar to come out and a few seconds later he did, closing the door behind him. We stood across the corridor from each other in silence.

"So what do we do now?" he asked.

"Can we explore New York?" I asked and he smiled at me. Again that promiscuous heart of mine did a little flutter.

"Sure. Where do you want to go first?"

I grinned at him. I'd given this a lot of thought (basically six seconds) and knew where I wanted to go.

"Kirby Plaza."


	3. How I Felt The Plot Thicken

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Heroes. Not even a teensy weensy bit.

**Info: **Peter has his original power back, along with telepathy, Elle's lightening powers, D.L.'s phasing ability and Claire's healing ability.

**Chapter Three: **How I Felt The Plot Thicken And Saw An Angel In The Process

Kirby Plaza hadn't looked this orange on television. I mean...this was _orange. _Like, _orange_. Bright, frightful orange. I felt slightly in awe at its orangeness.

"So this...is Kirby Plaza?" I asked the delightfully scrummy guy (who may or may not have taken my clothes off) next to me.

"It sure is," he replied. He looked at me, probably waiting for another destination or possibly for another scream. But who wouldn't scream if a knife wielding maniac or a giant (I'm talking _giant_) cockroach approached them?

I decided to ask him something that had been bothering me. In a roundabout way, of course. No need to embarrass myself. "Where are my other clothes, by the way?"

"I don't exactly know, but, from what Milady has said, the clothes that you're wearing now are the clothes that instantly appeared on you once you changed dimensions."

"So when I go back home the clothes I _was _wearing will instantly reappear?" I asked, trying to gauge his reaction to the word 'when.'

"Pretty much," he replied, keeping his face blank. I wondered suddenly if he was bored. He probably was, with me as a companion.

"And these clothes are cool, too," I pouted. I wasn't very interested in clothes; I just wanted to make him smile. He had a nice smile.

He did, although not for very long. I glanced around in case it hadn't been me who had erased that nice smile from his lips. Thankfully it wasn't. The cause of his suddenly blank expression was the grinning figure of Peter Petrelli striding across the plaza. Sylar grabbed my hand quickly and tried to pull me away, acting as though he hadn't noticed Peter.

Of course, I would have none of it. Not because I wanted to meet Peter Petrelli, but because Sylar had grabbed my hand. Moving after that would have been unthinkable.

"Come _on_," he mumbled in my ear, instantly making me freeze, but it was too late. Peter was upon us in a nanosecond.

"Gabriel, it's good to see you," he cried, grabbing Sylar's free hand and gripping it tightly. "I haven't seen you in ages. That Milady keeping you busy?"

"Yip. Busy. That's me," Sylar mumbled, trying to pull me away and give Peter a hint that he wasn't welcome.

He didn't take it. Glancing at me, he asked, "And who's this charming creature?"

I went bright red. Charming creature? Me? I glanced around. Maybe he was talking about someone else? Nope. He was talking about me. I wondered what shape his mental state was in, after Sylar had killed his father and Milady his mother. Obviously not very good.

"She is none of your business, Peter. Now, go away," Sylar replied, trying desperately to get me to move.

"My name is Rebecca Mackenzie. I'm from another dimension." I decided to give introducing myself a go.

Sylar didn't seem to appreciate my imitative. Peter, however, didn't let him get a word in. "Really?" he asked, apparently interested. "What kind of dimension?"

"One where you're all characters in a TV show."

Peter smiled incredulously. I had the feeling that he had only been humouring me.

"Prove it," he said.

Okay. How would I do that?

"When you collapsed in the street – this is before you exploded and Nathan saved you – you had a vision in which you saw Charles Deveaux meet your mother, and he told you that you were the one who would save the world because you knew the power of love. Am I right?"

Peter had his mouth open, gaping at me. I couldn't resist the moment. "Close your mouth. The wind might change and then you'll be stuck like. And then where will you be?"

His mouth was closed. He didn't seem to be about to say anything so I turned to Sylar and tried to make conversation.

"So I take it you found your parents?" I asked. I'd never been very good at polite chit-chat.

Sylar looked surprised. "Yeah. My father turned out to be some invisible man living in London."

I knew it! Ha!

"And Elle? How is she?" Because I am the eternal optimist.

"She's fine. I haven't really seen much of her..." Sylar started.

"...because you tried to kill her," I finished. "How exactly did she survive?"

"I saved her,' Peter said, rejoining the conversation.

"Oh," I said, interested. "Where is she now?"

"Living with Nathan."

Wow. This was starting to sound like a fanfiction I'd read. Go figure.

"Do you want to meet her?" Peter asked, ignoring Sylar's look of desperation.

"Sure," I said, surprised. And then remembered that he could read minds.

Thus it was that I got to meet some of the Heroes. Isn't that totally and completely cool? I felt quite privileged.

Nathan was apparently still living in the Petrelli mansion. Peter entered without knocking, but then I suppose he can do that, seeing as he supposedly lives there as well. Or at least I hope that's what the signs all around the place crying, 'Peter's Things,' means.

"Nathan!" Peter yelled at the top of his lungs. "Nathan?!"

Nathan appeared a moment later, his hands over his ears. Peter's voice w_as _a bit shrill now that I came to think about it. "Peter, you don't have yell," he said between gritted teeth. "I'm right here."

Peter pouted. I had never seen anyone pout before. He looked pretty cute. "Well...you could have been upstairs. Or something."

I didn't catch what Nathan said next. Because Elle came down the stairs right then. My all-time favourite female character in Heroes. Who I thought was dead. She walked down the stairs like it was nothing. I thought about that. Well, of course it would be nothing. It wasn't exactly Nobel Prize worthy. But she wasn't dead, is my point. Su, much yayness all around, I'm sure. There certainly was for me.

I did not squeal. I know. What a shock.

Elle stiffened when she saw Sylar, who looked immediately uncomfortable. Poor thing.

Why do I always do that? Why do I always feel sorry for him? He s_hould _feel uncomfortable. After all he did kill her. Damn. And yet I still feel sorry for him. What the hell is wrong with me?

I looked at Sylar. Okay, he's pretty hot. But so what? I know serial killers can be hot. I watch _Criminal Minds_. Urgh. Much annoyance.

"Elle, I was talking to you," a man's voice carried down the stairs, followed a moment later by what I assumed was the source. "You don't just leave in the middle of a conversation..."

My eyes widened. Literally. I felt them.

Noah Bennet. Noah. Bennet. _Noah Bennet_. How cool is that? He was even wearing those glasses of his! I wondered what would happen if I called him HRG? You know, when they first began calling him that I did not know what they were going on about. So I looked it up. As I usually do when I don't understand things.

A girl walked past me, immediately distracting me from Noah Bennet. I blinked. Hey, I recognised her...

"Angel Coulby?" I said, very confused. I blinked. She was still there. "Gwen?"

"Huh?" almost everyone else said, with the exception of Elle, who was too busy trying to inch up the stairs again.

I blinked and she was gone. "Weird..." I muttered. I shook my head and grinned at the people before me (and the one to the side because Sylar was beside me not in front of me). "So...this is cool, huh?"


	4. How I Learnt Awful News and Met the Baby

Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes. What a shocker, right? You really thought I owned Heroes. Boy, are you deluded.

Chapter Four: How I Learnt Some Awful News And Also Met The Baby

__________________________________________________________________________________

Noah Bennet (!!!!!!) gazed at me – the Crazy One, he was probably thinking – and then continued the conversation he was apparently having with Elle. "You shouldn't be shirking your responsibilities, Elle. He is your son." How awesome is he? Who says 'shirking' anymore, anyway? Wait. What?

Elle, who had managed to inch her way past him, started babbling. "Right. Fine. I'll go check up on his right away." She skedaddled.

I turned to Sylar. "Elle has a son?" I then looked at Peter. "You failed to mention this?"

Sylar was silent. I hoped, with mortification, because I had a sneaking suspicion (okay, it was a great big one) that he was the father. How messed up are these people, anyway? My dad was right. No one would be as silly as they are in real life. I grinned to myself. The reason I love fantasy, I suppose.

Peter sighed. "Sorry. His name's Noah, btw." Oh my gods! Peter speaks internet-speak!! How cool is that? "I should have mentioned it."

My subtle glance radar (maybe that's my power? Hopefully I have a power...although – another sneaking suspicion, dammit – I don't think I do. Damn my practical brain) picked up Peter's subtle glance at Sylar. Hmmm...I wonder...

I decided not to pursue that train of thought. Down that path lies only disappointment. Thankfully they're not brothers anymore. I mean, it sort of made sense...but I like to have delusions that had absolutely no incest in them, thank you very much.

Noah sighed, bringing me back to the conversation at hand. "You should really stop being so aloof," he said, apparently to Sylar who looked as surprised as I felt at being addressed by the awesome (he said 'aloof'!!) HRG. "And you should get to know your son. Before it's too late."

A sad look crossed his face, a look he made no move to hide. A horrible feeling hit me. No. No, it can't be. I refuse to believe it. No. No.

"Has something happened to Lyle?" I asked, even though I really had no business asking.

Noah looked at me. He'd never looked like that. Ever. "Yes," he said quietly and then trudged back up the stairs.

There was a silence. I tried not to hyperventilate – I didn't have my inhalers so it would not be a very good idea. Lyle. Oh gods. No, it can't be, it really can't. I turned towards Peter. He knew what I wanted to know, without me saying a word. Sometimes I forget how wonderful he can be.

"Two years ago Lyle, Sandra and Claire were in a...accident," he said sadly. "None of them made it."

I blinked. "But Claire...isn't she, like, invincible?" Why was I asking about Claire? I hated the whiny ass bitch. But still...Lyle. And Sandra.

Peter shook his head. "Not from decapitation, she isn't."

I took a deep, if shaky, breath. "Who's responsible? I mean, who did it?"

"We don't know," he replied. I wondered if all those Paire shippers had been right about him loving Claire as more than just his niece. "And we've tried hard enough to find out but...nothing. It remains a mystery."

Sylar took my hand in his. I think my subtle glance radar was on hyper alert since I thought I detected a hint of jealousy in the look Peter gave our hands. Dammit, I shouldn't have even been thinking these thoughts! Lyle was dead! Dead! Life was crap, even in TV shows. Dammit, why does my dad always have to be right? At least my treacherous heart seemed to be respecting my grief – it didn't begin to beat faster when Sylar took my hand. What a relief. Sort of.

"Do you want to meet Noah?" Nathan asked me quietly. "I'm sure Elle wouldn't mind." Oh gods! I'd completely forgotten he was there! I hadn't really had a chance to actually look at him. Now I did. His hair! It was the season two hair!! Without the beard, thank the gods. That thing had seriously creeped me out.

I nodded. Maybe seeing a baby would cure me of these morbid oh-gods-Lyle's-really-dead thoughts. Hopefully.

Elle wasn't even in the baby's room when we entered. Noah was, gazing into the crib at baby Noah. Hmmm, I wonder why Elle named her baby after him. Maybe she just liked the name. That's probably it. Get a bit confusing, though.

I went to stand beside the older Noah – fine, I see why they call him HRG but you aren't going to see me abbreviate his entire character to a pair of glasses – and looked down at baby Noah. Apart from my nephew (who is the cutest, most adorable baby _ever_) I'd have to say that baby Noah was the most beautiful baby I'd ever laid eyes on.

He gurgled at me and my heart was lost. Step aside, Sylar. Move over, Peter. Baby Noah had my heart. "He's just...wow."

Sylar, who had apparently followed me up the stairs, was a bit intrigued my gushing. At least that's what his next action led me to believe. What? I'm not a mind reader. The weird connections my mind makes at the most random times made me think of Matt Parkman. I'd ask about him later. Anyway, Sylar moved to stand beside me at the crib.

I looked over at him and I knew his heart had also been stolen by that baby thief before us.

__________________________________________________________________________________

**Updated! Yes! This is what comes from having a history exam. The creative juices...they begin a-flowing. Review, please. I enjoy getting reviews. They really make my day. Seriously. They do. **


	5. How I Comforted the Electric Lady

Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes. If I _did_...well...

Note: Thanks to my reviewers who want me to update. This one's dedicated to you. Oooh, my first dedication – don't I feel professional?

Chapter Five: How I Comforted the Electric Lady, Felt the (Supposed) Sexual Tension and Met a Mind Reader

__________________________________________________________________________________

Baby Noah, I could tell (because it was just so darned obvious), was the glue that held these people together. Mr. Bennet – who will now be referred to as such because only baby Noah can ever _be _Noah in my mind – was practically a train wreck, no matter how hard he tried to keep it together. But then I think I'd probably be worse if Dad, Ann and Leo died in a 'accident' – a bit like Bella in _new Moon_ after Edward left (just because I can I say: what the friggin' hell was he thinking?!) except no cute Jacob would be there to comfort me. And I highly doubt I'd go that mental over a guy. Baby Noah was somehow where Mr. Bennet placed all of his hopes and dreams – everything that had been on Claire and Lyle was now placed firmly with the little guy.

Peter was the sanest person there. Although I think he overcompensated by being happy _all the time_ which could get slightly frustrating if you just wanted to wallow – which, let's face, it everyone does when they grieve. Nathan was the most serious, and probably the one who put most of the food on the table. I wondered if he was still a senator, or if he'd gone back to being a lawyer. I had the feeling it was the latter. Don't ask me why. I was probably wrong anyway. But from the looks Nathan was giving baby Noah and the cooing sounds Peter was making I could tell they loved the kid just as much as Sylar and I did – and they'd known him longer.

Elle...well, I didn't really know much about her except that she was Noah's mother and that must count for something. I frowned – not that anyone noticed, baby Noah was that distracting. Where was she anyway?

You probably think it completely mad for someone like me – who has no means with which to defend herself (except that stuff Sandra Bullock taught the audience in _Miss Congeniality_ – and even then the details are a bit sketchy) – would deliberately seek out someone who could fry my ass into smithereens with a wave of her hands, especially considering her mood with the whole the-father-of-my-baby-who-killed-me-has-come-back-into-my-life-it-seems deal. And you'd probably be right.

I did it anyway.

I found her very quickly. She was in the next room, crying. I don't know why – I mean, how the hell should I know? Note to self: get introduce to Matt Parkman. That thought is going to bug me. Anyway, not only did I _not _know why she was crying I was also pretty shocked to even _see _her crying. After all, she's _Elle Bishop_. Elle Bishop doesn't cry. Ha. Try telling that to the Electric Lady and she'd probably fry your ass for such impertinence.

So, like any person in possession of common sense, I asked her why she was crying. I did not ask her if she was okay because that answer is just far too obvious.

She looked up at me. She was leaning against the wall, her knees bunched up against her chest. She sniffed and wiped some snot onto her sleeve. The one thing Elle Bishop did not care about, it seems, was her appearance. "Who the hell are you?" she said in this very unwelcoming tone. I choose to believe we got off to a relatively good start. No frying or anything.

I sat down in front of her. She didn't move. "Rebecca McKenzie. I'm from, uh, out of town." Oh, way to go, Rebecca. Out of town. Yeah. I'm sure she'll believe that.

Surprisingly...she seemed to. She screwed her face up. "Oh," she said. "Right. You were with..." And then she burst into tears. Again.

Maybe it's just me, but I get very uncomfortable around crying people. I cleared my throat, not to get her attention but because it was just something I do around crying people.

Apparently she thought it was to get attention since she stopped crying (is it mean for me to think 'thanks the gods'?) and looked at me. "I'm sorry." She wiped her face again. "It's just..." Her eyes welled up with tears.

"I understand," I said quickly.

She gave me a grateful look. I searched around in my pockets and –wonder of wonders, I knew I loved these clothes – found a handkerchief in one of them. I handed it to her.

She wiped her nose on the hanky and then looked up at me. Everything spilled out after that. How much she'd loved Sylar; she hurried to assure me that she no longer loved him, in fact she hated his guts apparently. How much she loved baby Noah, even though she hated his father's guts. How, even with this love, she just wanted it all to end. How she wished they had never brought her back (I decided to refrain from asking who she meant by 'they'). She had a lot of wishes – eventually they were pretty much along the lines of if-Sylar-so-much-as-touches-Noah-in-a-painful-way-I'll-rip-his-entrails-out-with-my-bare-hands.

This happens to me a lot. Because I generally don't say much people feel like they have to fill that space so they start talking and eventually...they begin spilling, or complaining, depending on the person. From all Elle told me, I'd guessed that she'd been keeping the majority of it stuffed deep down.

She eventually began crying again. This time I didn't mind so much. Everyone deserves a good cry once in awhile. That's how Peter and Sylar found us (Nathan, apparently, had buggered off to wherever he buggered off to during the day – note to self: find out what Nathan does for a living – and Mr. Bennet was still with baby Noah).

Sylar, who seemed to be deliberately ignoring the distraught Elle, appeared to be a bit freaked by my sudden disappearance. I must be pretty special to Milady for him to look that freaked. My treacherous heart was somehow no longer treacherous – it did not increase its rhythm at the thought that maybe Sylar liked me. I sighed inwardly. That baby Noah. He'd grow up to steal hearts, just you wait and see.

I cut him off as Peter, who actually seemed to have another expression other than 'happy,' comforted Elle. He was angry.

"Sylar, shut up," I said. What had got into me? Demon, I demand you depart! Right now!

Sylar seemed as surprised at my words as I was. It shut him up though. And then Peter took over.

"You bastard," he hissed. "You come in here and you ignore the woman you once loved." Even though I was secretly admiring Peters' gumption my practical mind reminded me of the fact that Peter had asked Sylar over. "Aren't you even sorry? Don't you an ounce of sympathy in that thick skull of yours? Or do you have to headslice someone to gain the ability to sympathise?"

Sylar glared at him. He glared right back. There was general glare-fest.

After awhile – yes, it went on for rather a long time – a strange thought entered my head. For some incredibly odd reason I was shouting "Kiss! Kiss!" in my head. I looked down at Elle. She appeared to be having the same thoughts.

"They never do, you know," a voice said and a man stepped in from the hallway. "Lots of tension, not much follow through." He grinned and held out his hand towards me. "I hear you're Rebecca McKenzie, Milady's new pet project. I'm Matt Parkman."

I _did not _faint. I'm not that much of an idiot. Instead I went: -

"Huh?"

Yeah. Not much of an idiot.


	6. How I Made A Convert

Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes. At all. I know, what a shocker, right?

Author's Note: Yeah, I know. It's small. Whatever.

Chapter Six: The Tale of How I Became an Obsessed Peter/Sylar Shipper and Extras

__________________________________________________________________________________

Matt Parkman (!!!!!!!!!) smiled at my shock. He could probably read my mind. Oh god. He was probably reading my mind _right this second. _Don't look at Sylar. Don't look at him, Rebecca. I mean it.

I looked over at Sylar. Damn.

Matt's smile turned into a wicked grin. Don't look at Peter, Rebecca. Listen to your inner voice, for once, girl.

My glance slid across to Peter. Oh dear. Oh dear. A thought hit (thankfully not physically, otherwise...) me. Oh god. _Peter _could read minds too, couldn't he? Don't think about him...or Sylar...or them together...

Peter blushed. Damn. Now I know exactly how Xander felt in that _Buffy _episode where she could read minds. What was it called? Oh, that's right. _Earshot_. Awww, Jonathan. Why did you have to die?

Anyway, back to the situation at hand. I cleared my throat and, carefully erasing any thoughts of Peter and Sylar (oh god...), smiled at Matt. "Hello." At least that was better than my previous statement. He probably thought I was off my rocker. Even though I don't know what that really means. I mean, a rocker? What's that?

I could tell Matt was trying to be serious. This was painfully obvious. "Hey." He turned to Peter and Sylar. "You guys, could I talk to you for a minute? In private?"

Sylar – who clearly knew nothing of the silent mind thing that had been going on – nodded and walked out of the room, followed closely by a still blushing Peter. Matt followed soon after, shooting me an eye roll before he did so.

Thus I was left alone in the room with Elle, apparent sociopath. At least she appeared to have stopped crying.

Before she could say anything, I asked, "It wasn't just me, was it? There was definite, um, tension between Peter and Sylar, right? What's up with that?"

Elle sighed from her position on the floor. I sat down beside her. "Yeah, they're always like that. I don't know when it first started although you couldn't almost bet that Nathan and Noah know." She took a deep breath...and didn't continue.

I waited. And then I waited some more. "And you're okay with this?" I asked, a bit impatient as I'm sure you can tell.

Elle laughed bitterly. "Why would I mind? I hate Sylar with every fibre in my being. I wish a wrecking ball would magically smash his head in, and that he'd have to eat his entrails even though his head has been smashed in."

I know I looked nauseated because Elle looked at me, slightly guilty. "Sorry," she muttered and then added stubbornly, "But you see my point."

I nodded. I didn't believe her (I can see why she'd hate him but I really can't see anyone sustaining that sort of hatred against him – am I weird or what?) but I nodded all the same. I felt it best to humour her.

"Something's been bugging me for awhile," I said, instead of acknowledging her statement any further. "Aren't you supposed to be a sociopath?"

Elle gave me a weird look, which said basically, "Um, duh?"

I shook my head. "But you felt guilty about trying to turn Sylar into a killer. Sociopaths, apparently, don't feel guilt, or remorse. So...you see what I'm getting at here?"

"Well...sort of," she said. "I don't feel guilty about killing people though."

I decided to change the subject then. Not exactly something you want to keep talking about really. I gazed wistfully at the doorway. "I wonder if they'll ever get together..."

"Is it true that where you're from we're all television characters?" she asked, ignoring my obvious fan girl attitude.

I stared at her. "How do you even know about that anyway?"

"Glasses," she said simply.

Oh. Why this seemed to explain a lot I don't know. It just did. "Then, um, yeah."

"So then you're obviously a Peter/Sylar shipper," she said. Where was she going with this? "How did that come about?"

I stared at her a little suspiciously. Why would she care about this? I shrugged inwardly. Who was I to pass up the opportunity to infect another potential Peter/Sylar shipper?

So I told her. How I was on the internet one day, just browsing YouTube, when I came across the Peter/Sylar fanvid that changed everything. My thoughts:

_God, what was this person smoking?_

_Sylar's hot._

_Peter's hot._

_Oh. My. God. _

REVELATION.

This, of course, led to my undying obsession.

Elle was intrigued to say the least. She said that maybe we should look for it on the internet, by pretending to do research into whether the internet is not only international but universal. It turned out that, in this world at least, she was right.

Elle watched the fanvid. I knew when it finished that I had made a new convert. Much yayness.

__________________________________________________________________________________

I just had to put this in there. Don't ask me why. My brain = weird obviously. Anyway, I will try and further the plot next chapter. Unless *raises eyebrows* I just did some plot development *evil laughter*

Review please.


	7. How I Had Chinese and Discussed Milady

**Chapter Seven: How I Had Chinese and Discussed Milady**

**Author's Note: Sorry it took me so long to update. I had exams. I'm sure you all know what **_**they **_**are like. Anyway, here it is. Hope you enjoy. **

**Disclaimer: Aaahh, I do not own Heroes! How is this possible??**

__________________________________________________________________________________

Elle swung around in the computer chair. She seemed very happy. Occasionally she giggled. Eventually she glanced over at me. "What are you doing?"

I jumped. Thankfully I didn't hit my head on the doorknob, although it was a pretty close call. I spun around and glared at her. "For your information," I hissed, deciding not to abbreviate. "I am trying to eavesdrop on their conversation. Stop distracting me."

Elle's eyes lit up. She bounced off the computer chair and over to me. "Anything interesting?"

I thought about what I had heard, when it hadn't been drowned out by Elle's occasional giggle. Really, you have no idea how loud that girl can giggle. At first Matt just seemed to be talking about baby Noah and how cute he was. Nothing I didn't already know. Then, just as I was about to fall asleep from sheer boredom (not literally, since the only place I can really sleep is a bed), the subject changed quite suddenly.

I frowned. "Something about Milady and her plans for me, I think. He's trying to get Sylar to rethink working for her." I paused when Elle snorted.

She shrugged. "Good luck to him. He's, like, in love with her or something. Never leaves her side." She titled her head to the side, gazing at me. "Well, until now."

"Is she really that bad?" I asked, hoping that she wasn't. It's not very nice if the person who looks uncannily like your sister is the Big Bad or whatever.

"She's okay, I guess," she replied. "Personally, I don't mind her but Glasses..._he _doesn't like her at all. Says she's s_hifty_, whatever that means. Of course, if she so much as touches a hair on Noah's head I'll rip her guts out and make them into skipping ropes. But that's just me."

I gazed her, my attempt at eavesdropping abandoned. I felt a bit nauseous. "You're a very...graphic person, aren't you?"

"Don't tell me you wouldn't do the same," she said, grinning. I shifted uncomfortably and decided to continue eavesdropping.

Unfortunately Matt and the others had ended their conversation and were about to enter the room. Elle and I skedaddled back to the computer and occupied ourselves with drooling over various Peter/Sylar fanvids. Of course, as soon as they entered the room, we turned the screen off. If Peter or Sylar had seen those fanvids there would have been a lot of red faces in that room, mine among them. And I blush too easily as it is.

"So..." Matt clapped his hands together. He smirked in the general direction of Elle and I (probably knew what we'd been up to, the loveable bastard). "It's getting late." He turned to Sylar, who did not look very happy. "Do you think Milady would mind if you and Rebecca stayed for dinner?"

You know when writers describe someone's face as having clouded over? Well, basically that was Sylar's face, if the cloud in question was a huge, black thunderstorm type. He was not a happy camper. He opened his mouth, probably to tell Matt where to stick his invitation when Elle interrupted.

"Oh yes," she said, simultaneously smiling at me and glaring at Sylar. "Please stay. Matt here orders Chinese very well."

Sylar cleared his throat and tried to give me a meaningful look but I ignored him. Well, no one could ever really ignore him (except, apparently, Peter, who was doing a pretty good job right then) so it was more like this: I noticed his look but chose not to do anything about it. Hopefully I would not regret this.

"I love Chinese food!" was my oh-so-smart response. Well, I _do _love Chinese food. Sylar glared at me and eventually succeeded in pulling me out of the room.

"What the hell are you doing?" he hissed at me. I blinked. I am a seriously disturbed person. I found him attractive even when he was all hissy and angry at me.

I shrugged innocently. "I _do _love Chinese food." Yeah, like that was really the answer he was looking for.

He sighed. His anger seemed to vanish. I hoped he wasn't bottling it up. That could be very unhealthy. Or so I am told. "Okay, fine. We'll stay for dinner." He wagged a finger in my face, a serious look on his face. "But that's it. Afterwards, we leave. Deal?"

We shook on it. "Deal."

Dinner at...well, I didn't really know what to call their place. Obviously it was the Petrelli mansion but Nathan was rarely there. According to Matt, who I talked to while we ate, he worked at some international airport. Very high profile, apparently. Lots of weird hours.

Anyway, dinner there was pretty good. Sylar, after our deal, was slightly less...oppressive, or whatever. He and Elle actually had a conversation. Granted it was about their son but still, progress. Peter grinned across at me and gave me the thumbs up. I returned the gesture, slightly confused. Elle now supported him and Sylar. And, it seemed, he supported her and Sylar. I prayed to any deities who happened to be listening that Sylar did not support them as a couple. _That _would just be too surreal.

Mr. Bennet came down with baby Noah and so there was the inevitable cooing over the cute little baby. And then Matt ordered the Chinese. Elle was right: he was clearly an expert.

Elle manoeuvred herself and the others so that she was beside Mr. Bennet and also that Peter and Sylar were sitting next to each other. This was actually a bad idea but then Elle's mental state had always been questionable at best. Peter was still steadily ignoring Sylar. I wondered what had happened. Damn Elle and her distractions! I'd probably missed a really important part of the conversation.

Anyway, while Elle and Mr. Bennet simultaneously cooed over Noah and ate their Chinese, Peter and Sylar continued to ignored each other and eat their Chinese. However I noticed, as did Elle from the way she grinned at me, that they weren't above stealing food from each other's plates. Adorable, really.

Strangely, even though there was probably some malevolent reason for my being here (with my track record, I expected no less), I felt happy. I was surprised to find that I actually _liked _these people. They were no longer just television characters. They were _real_. I sort of understood Elle's whole rip-Milady's-guts-out-and-make-them-into-a-skipping-rope attitude. I _really _hoped Milady wasn't as bad as I was beginning to suspect she was. I was crap at defending people. Strictly a listener, that's me.

I caught Matt gazing at me, a small smile at the corner of his mouth. My face slowly went red. I could feel it, the stupid thing.

"So, I guess Milady hasn't told you anything about her plans for you, has she?" he said. I blinked. I hadn't been expecting quite so an abrupt opening to the subject.

I shook my head dumbly. You know how they say so-and-so suddenly didn't feel hungry anymore? _So _did not happen to me. I _really _love Chinese food.

"Who _is _Milady, anyway?" I said, after I had swallowed. "I mean, I know she's the Head of the Company now but...where did she come from?"

Matt munched on some sweet and sour pork then said (oh, please, like you haven't spoken with your mouth full at least _once_), "The thing you have to understand about her is that she's very..." He paused, searching for the right word. "_Persuasive_, I guess you could say. I suppose you could even go a bit further and say she gets under your skin and no matter how hard you scrub she'll never leave until you've rubbed your skin raw and bleeding."

God, what was it about these people and graphically describing something? Matt grinned when he heard me thinking that. "You haven't really spent that much time with her," he said, that grin slowly fading. "But, believe me, once you do you'll understand all too well. Poor Sylar over there," he added, gesturing to Sylar with his fork. "_He _knows more than most."

My eyes widened. Was he saying what I think he was? He nodded as I turned my wide eyed stare on him. "Yeah, blackmail's not that far out of her range, either."

My brow furrowed. What could you blackmail Sylar with? I mean, you could probably _whitemail _him (threaten to tell people about all of his secret good deeds – if he had any – thus stripping him of his 'cool bad guy super powered serial killer' image) but even that wouldn't work for very long. I wondered what could be so important to him that he would willingly take orders from Milady.

Matt shrugged. "No clue. I've looked, believe me." He shook his head. "Oh well, I'm sure we'll find out soon enough. After all," he added, grinning, "you're here."

I smiled back weakly. What did he expect me to do, anyway? Hello, do I look like a miracle worker to you?

__________________________________________________________________________________

**Review please. I'd like to hear some suggestions. I mean, I know what I want to make the reason but you might have some far more ingenious ideas. **


	8. How I Was Unique and Met Sylar's Cat

**Chapter Eight: How I Learnt I Was "Unique" and Met Sylar's Cat**

**Author's Note: I finally updated! To all those who have reviewed, favourite, alerted, whatever, I hope you enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes. **

__________________________________________________________________________________

After dinner, Sylar took me back to...the Company, I suppose you could call it. Milady's digs, another good title. Not without a little fuss from Elle who kept winking at me and insinuating that maybe we should make a night of it. Have a slumber party, were her exact words. I could tell what she was trying to do. It wasn't very hard; her whole face screamed it. Matt merely smirked, and subtly backed her.

But I'd made a promise to Sylar and, as much as I wanted to see what Elle and Matt could cook up between them, this was a promise I was going to stick to. Plus I was tired. It had been a _very _long day. Thank god it had included Chinese.

So we returned and I snuggled into my still-very-comfy bed and drifted off to sleep almost immediately. I was in the middle of a particularly fascinating dream in which Mr. Bennet and Ando team up to take on Peter and Sylar, who had started their own wrecking ball company (with them as the wrecking balls) when I woke up. I grumbled, Peter and Sylar had just been about to wreck another building a la Buffy and Spike (guess how).

And then I saw him. Sylar was sitting on my bed, watching me. I felt like Bella the Freak from _Twilight_. Not a good feeling. I frowned, blinked sleepily. I would like to say that I said something very witty, like "Get off my bed, Mr. Freaky Man" (not that I would _think _that having Sylar on my bed was in any way a bad thing – just that the whole Edward the Stalker connotations were freaking me out). But I didn't.

Instead I said, "What?"

Yes, I am full of wit.

Sylar smiled. It was a nice smile, made me all squishy inside. And don't you go thinking you wouldn't feel the exact same way. If you did just think that, you lied to yourself. Never a good thing.

"Milady would like to speak with you," he said, his voice turning me into ten types of mushy goo. I realised it was morning too. I blinked, rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and waited.

After awhile I said, "Yes, and now I have to get dressed." I waited a bit more, just in case.

He blinked, surprised, and stood up. "Oh. Yes, of course." He gestured to the door he was backing into nervously. It was surprisingly fun watching Sylar squirm. "I'll just be outside. Call if you need anything." The door closed quickly behind him.

I sat in bed for a minute, not wanting to leave it. I wondered at Sylar's behaviour. It seemed to me, watching the show, that he wouldn't mind people undressing in front of him. Dammit. I _knew _I was hideous. It _had _taken him awhile to catch on though...Maybe I'm not totally horrible-looking. I doubted it though.

I rummaged through the nearby chest of drawers, found some truly beautiful clothing (which actually fit me!) and put them on. Then I went to the door and told Sylar I was ready.

He took me down the corridors, to a completely different room from that sparkly, ugly one. Thank god, that room had given me a headache, albeit a small one. The room we were in now could only be described as an office. There was desk across the room, wood, probably mahogany (although I know absolutely nothing about wood so it could have been oak for all I knew). Milady sat behind it. She stood when we entered, smiling.

"Did you have a good day yesterday?" she asked. I'd forgotten how truly surreal it was, being around her. At times all I wanted to do was bow down and worship her (I had the feeling this might have been her 'power' or at least part of it. It certainly explained a lot), and then I'd think, "Oh god, she looks so much like Ann," and the whole worshiping thing would vanish instantly.

I nodded. I wondered if Sylar had told her all of what we'd done yesterday. "Yeah, it was cool. Kirby Plaza was very...orange."

She laughed at the expression on my face (at least that's what I _hope _she was laughing at). "Yes, that fact always strikes me whenever I see it too. Now," she added, sitting down, suddenly ultra-professional. "I would like to explain to you what exactly you're doing here. Is that okay?" Her smile was so very kind.

I blinked. I hadn't expected that. Maybe she wasn't so bad after all. "That sounds good." I smiled back, reassured. Then my brain reminded me about the whole Ann-double thing and the reassuring feelings I'd been getting went out the window. I gulped, although not noticeably. I think.

"Everyone in this world has a counterpart in the myriad of others out there," she began, and then gestured at Sylar. "Sylar here, for example, has counterpart in your world called – what was it? Oh, yes – Zachary Quinto. And I'm sure you've met someone recently who looks like someone you know from your world. People usually do." Her smile _deepened_, if that was at all possible. It seemed to become permanently attached to her face. Creepy. I wondered if she knew she was the person I'd meet who looked like someone I knew. The smile said yes but somehow...I got the feeling that she didn't. I was probably wrong, knowing me.

"Except you," she said. I blinked. Wait. What? I said so.

She laughed, the sound like bells gently ringing. I've never liked laughter like that. I gritted my teeth. "Well, there are others. People who are absolutely unique. There is no one like you on any other world. That is why you are special, why we need you. Well, partly anyway," she added, nonchalantly shrugging her shoulders. "There _is_ one other reason."

"What's that?" I asked, suspiciously, squirming uncomfortably in my chair. I had the feeling I wouldn't like what was coming next.

"You're also the only one of the unique ones who is absolutely pure."

I _knew _I was going to hate it. I scoffed (probably to cover my embarrassment). "I'm not p--"

Her grin grew wider, almost inhumanly so. "Oh, I'm afraid you are. Nothing has tarnished you – you're the purest thing I've seen in years. It's actually quite refreshing. That's why you're the perfect person for what I have in mind."

"And what exactly is that?" I asked, far past suspicion now.

She was still smiling at me, although it now seemed to have taken on a polite tone. "We'll leave that til our next meeting, okay?" She glanced up at Sylar. "Now, you remember what I told you?"

He nodded. I wondered if _he _was uncomfortable with the way the conversation had gone. From his expression I'd hazard the guess that no, he didn't seem to mind at all. Of course his face was perfectly blank so I couldn't say for sure.

He pulled me out of the chair, and then out of the room. I don't know why but the next words out of my mouth were, "What is she planning, Sylar?" I didn't really expect him to tell me.

He didn't. Instead he merely continued to pull me in some random direction. I stopped struggling half heartedly and just let him do what he would. Being with Sylar (while he does have his faults, stealing people's powers by opening up their brains being one of them) was infinitely preferable to being with Milady, with her creepy smiles and the way she looked almost exactly like my sister.

He steered me into a room and closed the door behind us. I realised after a quick glance around said room that we were in a bedroom. After a longer look I realised that the bedroom in question was his. Before I could drown in a pool of embarrassment, I noticed the cat.

It looked _exactly _like my cat, Buffy. I wondered if that whole counterparts thing applied to animals as well. "Buffy!" I yelled, almost squishing him in my excitement. I held him, buried my head in his fur. After a bit of a struggle, he began to purr. Yup, _exactly _like Buffy. He couldn't be the counterpart.

And then I glanced over at Sylar. He looked faintly amused at my behaviour. "His name's actually P--" He stopped, possibly because he was about to say something that would make me squeal and jump up and down inside.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Were you about to say Peter?"

He _blushed_. Oh...my...god. He actually _blushed. _He really is the cutest thing on two legs (just as Buffy – or, in this case, Peter – is the cutest thing on four legs)!

His blush obviously having answered my question he ignored me and tried to gather the shreds of his dignity back together. While he was occupied with that strenuous task I crooned to Peter and said things cat people say to their cats on an almost daily basis.

"Don't you dare tell Parkman about this," he said, obviously having rounded up some dignity. "He has these weird, completely _untrue_, ideas about Peter and I."

I tried very hard not to laugh. "Yes, I'm sure he does.I'm sure you only named the cat that because you're a Peter Parker fan." As he quickly agreed with that idea, I glanced around the room a bit. It was tidy, no real surprise there. I spotted something sticking out from behind one of the pillows on the bed. I went and picked it up without a second thought. I didn't even notice Sylar, once he realised what I was about to do, try and stop me.

It was a fuzzy toy brain. I found it utterly adorable. There was small note attached. I positioned Peter over my shoulder and read it.

_To Sylar aka the Cool Guy Who Attacked My Sister (Well done, mate!),_

_I saw this and thought of you. Thought you'd like it. Yes, I'm weird. Shut up._

_Lyle_

I read it again. And again. Only after a few more readings did I glance over at Sylar. "Give that here!" he snarled, snatching at the fuzzy brain (which is now ingrained in my memory, it was just so cute!). I gave it up without a fuss. He stuffed it behind the pillows.

After far too much silence I cleared my throat. He looked over at me. "Can we go see the others again?" I asked.

He nodded. I wondered if he would have agreed with anything I said. Probably.

__________________________________________________________________________________

**Lyle will be mentioned again. Don't worry on that account (he's one of my favourite characters so, yeah). Mystery though, eh?**

**Review please. **


	9. How I Foiled Elle's Dastardly Plan

**Chapter Nine: How I Foiled Elle's Dastardly Plan (With One of my Own)**

**Author's Note: An update, I'm sure you're all very surprised. Yeah. Anyway, for all of you who have forgotten (or maybe I haven't actually said it? *shrugs*), this story contains SLASH and blah de blah. You get my drift. I'm also assuming that when she is obsessed nothing would stand in Elle's way, except possibly something shiny. **

**Also: my new favourite word today is 'dastardly.' Hehe. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes. But I own my body and it is cold. **

__________________________________________________________________________________

Elle ambushed me as soon as we crossed the threshold. She threw an apologetic smile Sylar's way, tipping me off that she was up to no good (hatred like the type she held for Sylar didn't just go away overnight), and drew me into the living room, closing the doors quietly behind her. Then she turned to me and, if I hadn't already guessed, left me in doubt as to her dastardly motives (heh, I love the word 'dastardly' – it reminds me of the good ole days with the moustache twirling villain) when she grinned wickedly.

"Oh, Becky," she gushed, clasping her hands to her chest. She paused. "You don't mind if I call you Becky, do you?" She barely waited for me to shrug my consent (people rarely give me nicknames so I didn't care all that much) before continuing with, "I have the most brilliant upon brilliant idea for getting Peter and Sylar together!" She paused again, this time to wait for my reaction with barely concealed glee.

"Well?" I said, deciding to reserve my judgement until I had heard her idea.

She bounced on the balls of her feet. "Okay, so, I was thinking...we could lock them in a closet until they finally cave and admit their true feelings for each other!" She looked at me, her blue eyes sparkling. She _really_ liked this idea.

To me, it sounded like an awesome crack fic (which I filed away in the file in my brain entitled Great Fic Ideas Which I Might Never Write) but I had the feeling that neither Peter nor Sylar would appreciate it (especially considering the small fact that Peter seemed to be in a bit of a snit when it came to Mr. Sex on a Stick). I thought they would probably kill each other – not that this really _meant _anything but it was the principle of the thing.

I finally said, "Sounds great. But how, exactly, are we going to lock them in a closet?" Maybe she'd give up if she realised how impossible her plan was.

I was wrong. Her eyes continuing to sparkle with mirth, Elle regaled me with her ideas...and I had to admit that, although some (such as that chocolate sniffing one) were entirely unrealistic and anyway called for things we mostly certainly didn't have (apparently she owns a chain saw though), some of them were very good. I decided to help her although, as an equally dastardly plan began to form in my mind, with one or two tweaks.

I would distract Peter and Sylar while Elle prepared the items (yeah...right) we'd need to lure them to the closet. I found them cooing over baby Noah, who gurgled happily up at them both equally. Of course they were as far away as two people around a cot can get but Noah wasn't too picky.

"Hey," I said and they both turned their attention to me.

"If you've come to distract us while Elle prepares the closet, you're wasting your time," Sylar said flatly, his eyes showing just the tiniest bit of disappointment. "We heard everything."

Ha! I knew it! One of Sylar's best lines and people keep forgetting the context! And the fact that he has that super hearing thing too. Hehe, 'preparing the closet.' Hehe. I wonder if he realised how simple preparing the closet would be.

"Well, that's what Elle _thinks _I'm doing up here," I replied, my grin hiding the fact that I had no freaking idea whether they'd go for my idea either. "But really I've come to propose something else."

They listened in silence as I told them what I had thought up mere minutes ago. Peter raised an eyebrow at me and I silently cursed mind readers (he smirked at that).

After much argument, Sylar gave Peter a sidelong glance which clearly said, "If you try anything – and I mean _anything_ – I know twenty ways in which to kill you and make it semi-permanent" (Boy, does he have loaded glances or what?). Then he turned to me and said, not without some hesitation (I mean, it _was _pretty dastardly, if I say so myself. My sort of dastardly too), "We're in."

Peter just continued to smirk. I glared at him, silently telling him to keep his big gob shut or...but that's a bit too graphic for here. Needless to say, he got my drift. In fact he looked a little pale as he walked out of the room, following fast behind Sylar. I waved at baby Noah, who gurgled happily to himself (he'd found some sort of fuzzy teddy bear at some point).

"Elle?" Peter said as he entered the room housing the Soon To Be Infamous Closet (Elle's words, not mine), followed closely by Sylar. I knew he was frowning when he realised that no one was in the room. What? I had to give her _something_. "Elle, are you in here? Rebecca said you wanted to talk to us?"

She jumped seemingly out of nowhere (from behind the open door, actually) and pushed them towards the open closet door, zapping them just a little so they didn't struggle. As soon as they were both inside she slammed the door, turning the key with a flourish, effectively locking them in the closet. Simple...but _very _effective, you have to admit.

She twirled around and smirked at me. Then she decided she wanted to high five and accidentally (I think, you can never really tell with her) zapped me. So, on top of the pain high fiving nearly always gives me, I also had electric shock.

"So...what do you want to do now?" she asked, ignoring me as I clutched my hand.

I shrugged, mostly because anything else would have taken far too much effort.

"Want to go read Peter/Sylar fics on the internet?" she continued, obviously wanting to do just that. I nodded in agreement. I could never pass up a chance to read Peter/Sylar fics, even when I _should_.

It was about three hours later when I glanced up from the computer screen and rubbed my blearily eyes. Elle continued to read, her eyes literally drinking up the details of the (somewhat dirty) fic. I tapped her gently on the shoulder and got a small electric shock for my trouble. I ignored it. She'd been doing that off and on for the past hour. I don't think she'd ever read smut before. "Elle, do you think it might be time to, you know, set them free or whatever?"

She glanced up, her gaze seemingly taking forever to wrench from the screen. She blinked at me. "Uh, okay, I guess." Her gaze turned just as slowly back towards the screen but I pinched her before it could return to its previous place. She glared at me, rubbing the spot. I hadn't realised I'd pinched that hard.

"Fine," she muttered. "I'm coming."

We closed the window, shut the screen off then left the room, headed towards the closet room. It was deceptively silent. Elle narrowed her eyes suspiciously and opened the door cautiously...to find Peter and Sylar playing Go Fish (which turned out to be the only card game Sylar had ever played).

"Go fish," Peter said just as the door opened. He turned towards us, his grin telling us clearly that he had been bored stiff. "Oh, hi, Elle, Rebecca. How are you?"

Sylar ignored us, preferring to glare at the cards in his hands before throwing them, like a twelve year old with anger management issues aggravated by losing (and I would know), to the ground. He swiftly rose to his feet (a truly impressive feat to watch, believe me), Peter following suit. The latter smirked at me as he went past. He knew what was coming next.

"Oh, I'm so _hungry_," he moaned, pouting as he rubbed his stomach (something people do when they're hungry apparently – personally I do not see how it could help although I have been guilty of it once or twice).

Sylar (I could tell he rolled his eyes before this, sometimes you just can) turned back towards him, a surprisingly simpering smile on his face. I blinked. _Weird _image, let me tell you. "Oh, you _are_, are you?" he said, his voice lowering just enough so that excited shivers ran up and down my spine (stupid spine, why does it even do that?).

He strode over and crushed his lips against Peter's. I glanced over at Elle to gauge her reaction to my dastardly plan – she was gaping, mouth open wide enough so that flies could probably go in and out at their leisure. I couldn't help but giggle.

She turned to me, pointed at them. "You? This...?" Her gaze immediately began drifting back towards them. I didn't really blame her.

After a moment both Elle and I realised that _they weren't going to stop kissing_. Which, you know, surprised me because they had been against the idea of kissing and had, in fact, wanted me to come up with a _different_ dastardly plan (well, okay, fine, _Sylar _had been against it – Peter had just _smirked_ at me, which got incredibly annoying after awhile). They certainly seemed to be enjoying themselves now though.

I pulled Elle over to the sofa behind us and sat down. Better to be comfortable, is my philosophy. In this instance anyway.

Things were just getting _interesting _(they'd started unbuttoning their shirts!!!) when we heard the door slam and Nathan call out, "Anyone home?" And then he was at the doorway, gaping almost exactly like Elle had been at the sight of Peter and Sylar snogging in what –as I finally glanced around – turned out to be some sort of high tech TV room. How could I not have noticed this?

"_Peter_?" Nathan's voice actually squeaked, which was terribly adorable. And also annoying because at the sound of his voice Peter and Sylar jumped apart as though Elle had sparked them. They fumbled at their shirts, fingers clumsy as they tried to button them up again, avoiding each other's (and everyone else's) gaze as they did so.

"Yes, Nathan?" Peter said, once he'd gathered enough of his dignity. His voice was just the slightest bit rough which made Elle melt into a happy fangirl puddle beside me on the sofa. I had more self control, let me tell you...but not much. "You wanted something?"

"Did I just...? Were you...?" Nathan shook his head and I could tell that, while I simultaneously melted into a mushy pile of goo, he was trying to convince himself that he'd been seeing things. He partially succeeded, I think, although he was probably going to have nightmares about it tonight for sure.

Sylar cleared his throat and, as every glance turned towards him, moved towards me, pulling me none too gently from the sofa and propelling me out the door. "You are so dead," he hissed as I waved cheerily goodbye to a still-melting Elle, a rather disappointed looking Peter and a confounded Nathan. I spared a thought for whoever happened to return first after we left – they'd have a lot of mess to clean up. I pitied them.

"You are so dead," Sylar repeated and for some reason I wasn't even worried that his index finger was scarily near my forehead.

"Oh, come on!" I said (what was the _matter _with me? Was I suicidal?). "You're not seriously telling me you didn't enjoy that?"

"That's not the point," he said gruffly, his index finger lowering just the tiniest fraction, thank the gods. He sighed and his index finger lowered all the way to his side, its proper place, if you ask me. "You shouldn't have done that."

"Well, you agreed, remember?" I reminded him. Well, he had. "I didn't force you." Not much, anyway.

He gave me a Look. "Okay, fine," I said, my cheeks flaming as I placed a hand on my heart. "I promise I will never do that ever again. Is that good enough?"

He raised an eyebrow, unsmiling. I huffed. "Fine, and I won't mention it to anyone either."

I waited. He seemed amenable to that so I added, really fast before he had a chance to interrupt, "Except Elle, 'cause she saw it too and, really, she needs someone to talk to or she'll tell _everyone_, you just know she will." I grinned at him and, as he grumbled, I knew I had won that little bit at least. Ha.

"So..." I said, a while later as we made our rather slow way back to Milady's. "How was it?"

"Nah, nah, nah, not listening, nah, nah, nah," Sylar said in a sing-song voice, fingers plugging his ears. "Nah, nah, nah..."

I nagged him all the way back but he wouldn't give me anything. The bastard. He enjoys torturing me. Damn him.

__________________________________________________________________________________

**I feel nice...like sugar and spice...toodle doodle doo...**

**Review please. **


	10. How Everything Went ShitColoured

**Chapter Ten: How Everything Went Shit-Coloured, As My Sister Once Said**

**Author's Note: Okay, this gets pretty serious so...yeah. Be warned. It's pretty long too. **

**Disclaimer: I so do not own Heroes. Or Morgan Freeman and Draco Malfoy. Their images have just been borrowed. Because my mind conjures up weirdness. **

__________________________________________________________________________________

Okay, you know how everything – minus Milady's dastardly (heh, I still love that word) but ultra-secretive plot – seems to be going pretty sweet? Well, I hate to break it to you, sweeties, but everything's about to change.

We entered the building and I waved at the security guard (whose name tag read 'Mal' in case you were wondering; I've always liked knowing people's names, personally). He seemed rather surprised at the attention and, after a bit of hesitation, waved back. Sylar, who was in a very foul mood (which I had nothing to do with, a fact I will swear to in a court of law, if need be), glared at him and he immediately lowered his hand and busied himself about his desk.

Sylar reached behind him and grasped my hand, pulling me up the stairs (what was the matter with taking the elevator, I ask you?) so fast I knew I was probably going to get a stitch when we finally stopped. I made a note to myself that when (or if) I ever returned I was going to follow my Dad's advice and exercise regularly.

On second thought, scratch that. I hate exercise.

He finally let go of my hand once we were in his bedroom. I watched him close the door, utterly confused. Why the hell were we back here? Did he _want _me to ask more questions about Lyle? Because, being the complete and total moron I am, that's what I'd do in about five minutes. That is, if he didn't say anything and thus distract me.

And then he turned around, strode towards me and kissed me.

Even though this was one of my oh-so-tiny dreams (which were normally overshadowed by my Peter/Sylar dreams and so are rarely mentioned...ever), my first thought was, _What the fuck?_

"Why?" I hear myself asking...myself. Because he'd just kissed Peter! He liked Peter, I knew he did, that was why he was in such a foul mood...wasn't it? I didn't understand, I was confused, and him kissing me _was not _helping. Because, being the total kissing expert I am (i.e. totally and completely clueless), he was a good kisser.

My first kiss. And it felt _wonderful_...but not right. Not deliciously _wrong_, either. I know about those. I've written some of those. Just...not right. Like...something was missing.

I'm mangling this, I know. You probably want to know every little detail, like the way his lips felt against mine, or the way he grazed my cheek with his thumb, or any number of things. The thing is...I didn't understand what was going on (not that I had a great track record to begin with). But I could _ignore _that other confusion while now...now my head hurt trying to understand.

He drew back slowly, smiling down at me.

I blinked, drew my hand back and slapped him.

Both of us were surprised at this, his hand going to his cheek, a look of rather adorable surprise (yes, I am so weird) on his face. Me, I just gazed, completely gobsmacked, at the culprit, my hand. It throbbed a little. I had never slapped anyone before (although sometimes I felt like I should, they were behaving so stupidly; of course, these instances all concerned fictional characters and thus you can understand why I didn't). Completely new experience, and all that.

"What was that for?" he asked, sounding terribly hurt.

I gaped at him. "You _kissed _me," I said. "I know you don't feel that way about me, I've seen the way you and Peter look at each other, I'm not blind..."

Sylar snorted. He bloody s_norted_. "That was just a fluke," he said, obviously referring to the kiss he'd shared with Peter, although how I was supposed to know this I have no clue.

Something was worming its way through my brain. "Oh, please," I said, a wonderful feeling of anger rushing through my veins, eclipsing the confusion for the moment. "I may have lit the fuse but you two brought the matches. And what matches they were," I added, smiling briefly at the memory.

I blinked, focused back on Sylar, mentally giving myself a pat on the back for such a good line. I usually don't think of them until quite a while afterwards. I glared at him. "In the immortal words of Alicia Silverstone – 'It is one thing to spark up a doobie and get laced at parties, but it is quite another to be fried all day.' Do you get the distinction?"

As Sylar blinked at me, confused (now he feels that horrible emotion, ha!), I added, "Okay, so she was talking about drugs in context, and was in fact saying that the first was preferable to the latter, and I have never actually used the word 'doobie' in a sentence, ever, but seriously I am not a one-time-thing kind of girl..." Although sometimes I think it might not be so bad, a thought I would never tell him, obviously (thank the gods he can't read minds). "I am not someone you can just use because you're too much of a coward to get the one you want."

A part of my brain was cheering me on while another part was yelling at me to stop being so thick and just let him have his way with me. Thank the gods that part was _much _smaller. And that I had stopped babbling.

He laughed. The bastard actually began to _laugh_. "You really think that's what this is all about?" he said, finally, still laughing although I could tell he was trying to reign it in. I glared at him. The bastard. Seeing my glare he quickly revised what he'd been about to say. "Okay, I'll admit it may have had something to do with it..." HA! "...but it's not the only reason."

He drew a deep breath. "It's just...I like you. You're not very smart and some of the things you say make no sense but you remind me of someone I used to know so...I like you."

I blinked at him. What was he going on about?

"The thing is," he continued, motioning for me to take a seat, which I did, on the bed. Apparently what he had to say called for this. "You're...you...this whole purity thing is very important. Milady intends to call forth this...thing called the Devourer of Worlds and she...well, she needs someone _pure_, if you get my drift."

I blinked up at him. This felt so surreal. Nothing at all like the Heroes 'verse, embedded as it is in scientific mumbo jumbo. More like, I don't know, something from a Buffy or Angel episode. Maybe Doctor Who at a stretch.

And then something clicked and I stood up immediately.

"_What _the _fuck_?" I said, using more swear words out loud than I had in my entire life. "I'm a fucking _virgin sacrifice_?" I felt a bit dizzy and had to sit back down.

_This cannot be happening_ kept drifting through my head and so I pinched myself, just like people do in novels. It hurt. And didn't even work. I would never do it again. Stupid people in novels.

I felt him sit down next to me and something else clicked into place. "Wait," I said, trying to move away as quickly as possible. "You were going to sleep with me? Are you high?"

Anger flickered in his eyes and I could practically see him try to control it. He partially succeeded since the hand he placed on my shoulder was nothing if not gentle. "I..." he searched for words and, as he did so, I moved away from him, my hand landing on the fuzzy brain.

I held it up and his face when I did...anger and grief warred there and I hated myself for what came out of my mouth then. "And what about this?" I said, hating the snarky tone entering my voice. "What about _Lyle_?

"Don't," he said, his tone strangled.

I ignored him. "Did you try to protect _him _in this ham-fisted way, or did you watch as Milady killed his family?" I waved the fuzzy brain in his face for effect, if nothing else.

"Don't," he repeated, his tone now impossibly cold.

"You probably _enjoyed_ it, you sick bas--" I began. I wanted to shut myself up – I didn't even mean any of what I was saying – but I was so confused, half my brain trying to understand what the hell was going on, leaving the other – much less intelligent – half to do most of the thinking.

He shouted something and then there was a white burst of pain in my stomach. I blinked, what I was saying disappearing in an instant. I looked down.

His fist was thrust through my stomach. A simple sentence. But it _bloody _hurt. And then I was gasping, screaming, crying and he was pulling his fist away and saying _something _but I couldn't understand, I didn't understand, why was everything so hard to understand, why couldn't things just be simple?

Black spots clouded my vision, eventually eclipsing it entirely and I drifted mercifully into unconsciousness. Everything was remarkably simple after that.

And then I woke up.

I opened my eyes...and had to immediately close them, the room I was in was so _bright_. The walls were white, I think even the floors were, and everything was somehow very _clean_.

I had to open them again, realising as I did that I did not feel like Sylar's fist had just been rammed into my stomach. I didn't even feel sick. In fact I felt remarkably well rested. So why did I feel like I was in a hospital?

"She's awake," a voice said to the left of me. I frowned. It sounded so familiar. I glanced in its direction and had to blink several times, just in case I was dreaming. I don't really know what I expected blinking to do (since I'm sure there are plenty of people who blink in their dreams) but I did it anyway.

Anyway, you probably want to know why I was blinking. Well...you're probably not going to believe this but the owner of the voice was none other than Morgan Freeman (or at least someone who looked like him), dressed in a white suit.

"That she is," another voice said, this one to my right. I turned towards it and found myself gazing up into the face of none other than Draco Malfoy (again, it was probably just someone who looked remarkably like him), dressed in a black suit.

I was obviously dreaming since none of this could be real. I mean, a White Room? Obviously taken from Angel. And the guy who looked like Morgan Freeman looked like he had in _Bruce Almighty_. And, well, Draco Malfoy. Enough of an explanation in itself. My mind was just playing tricks on me. Maybe, I thought, this was what happened when you died.

The one who looked like Draco (who I will call Draco from now on, because they never _did _tell me their real names) shook his head. "No, you're not dead," he said. Obviously he could read minds. Damn him. "You're just...in the waiting room, I suppose you could say. You'll be going back soon enough."

Oh. So...limbo. That is just the weirdest word ever. I blinked, opened my mouth to ask why exactly I was here.

The one who looked like Morgan Freeman (who will be referred to as Morgan because of the reason mentioned above) smiled and said, "Well, we tried sending operatives after you but they kept missing you."

The image of that Gwen/Angel Coulby girl walking past flashed into my head and they nodded...simultaneously. It was sort of creepy.

"Yes, like that," Morgan continued. "Thank heavens this happened or we might never have gotten to you in time."

I glared at him and finally said something. "Thanks so much. I'll be sure to mortally wound myself again sometime, it's just been so much fun." Somehow I must be far more articulate unconscious – or in limbo, or whatever. Dammit.

Draco snorted. "Well, it helps." He really did look very huggable, and could certainly fill suits well. Just like Sylar (who, let's face it, looks good in anything).

"Ah, yes, him," Morgan said, reading my mind obviously. "I'm afraid he's going to be a handful."

"Yeah, sorry about that," Draco added, grinning at me. I went bright red. And I used to love mind readers. Obviously a revision is needed.

I tried very hard to ignore him, instead asking something no one – including my poor misused brain – had been able to answer. "What the hell is going on?"

Morgan sighed. "I'm sorry this is happening to you. We would have preferred someone with more experience but I'm afraid it's up to you."

"_What _is up to me?" I said, getting confused and just a little bit angry.

Draco threw a rather disgusted glance at Morgan and then turned to me. "You know that Milady means to sacrifice you to the Devourer of Worlds?"

I nodded. That much, I knew. "Why is she even attempting to raise this Devourer person? And who, or what, is it anyway?" Very good questions, I thought. I wondered if I'd finally get the answers to them.

Morgan smiled at me. "I'm afraid we can't give you much except to say that two sacrifices are meant to be made to resurrect it. She already has the first one, called the Host." My sister and her semi-obsession with Stephanie Meyer kept popping into my head then. Cheered me up a bit, let me tell you. But then Ann always could. "His role is obvious. The Devourer uses him as a Host until the time is right then he is brought the Sacrifice – that is, you – and you, well, let's just say it's not pretty."

"Basically the Host spills your blood in this ritual called, very unimaginatively, the Ritual of the Blood," Draco continued. It was weird the way they did that. One stopped and the other one continued immediately. "And then the Devourer tears the Host apart and is reborn."

They were both silent as I tried to take in what they were saying. I opened my mouth to repeat a question but Morgan interrupted with, "We cannot tell you who the Devourer, or even its Host, is. That information you'll have to discover for yourself."

Their heads immediately turned in the direction of the ceiling. Draco looked back down at me, gave me a reassuring grin. "You're being pulled back. Don't worry. You may experience a feeling of nausea but it'll pass." His grin widened maliciously. "Eventually." He turned his face back up to the ceiling. Personally I did not see anything very remarkable about it. It was white. Not very imaginative (which, considering this might very well be a dream, says more about me than about them).

Morgan, his gaze still fixed skywards, added, "And don't be too hard on Sylar. He means well. Milady really shouldn't have taken Lyle though. That was her first mistake."

His eyes were suddenly staring directly into my own. "And, yes, that was a clue. Don't forget it."

I blinked and found myself staring into Sylar's dark brown eyes. He looked absolutely miserable. I glanced around as he gaped at me (he looked adorable, in case you were wondering) and found I was in my bedroom (the one in the Company HQ, not my actual bedroom; it's funny how much I miss that room). I wasn't feeling nauseous either, thank the gods.

Something meowed and, glancing down, I found Peter (the cat, obviously; if it had been the man I'd have been seriously freaked) gazing at me too. I wondered absently how long I had been unconscious.

"Ah, you're awake." Milady's voice made me glance up. She was smiling that kind smile at me, standing at the edge of my bed, just behind Sylar. "Sylar was worried, poor boy. I told him not to but would he listen?" She sighed as though lamenting the deafness of men. Part of me agreed with her.

I smiled at that said deaf man, remembering what those two whoever-they-weres had said. Everything that had happened was still surprisingly clear. Much clearer than my memories usually were, which made me instantly suspicious. I shrugged inwardly. Oh well. At least I didn't have to stretch my brain to remember. That was good. My poor brain had been under enough stress lately.

Sylar had gone back to looking miserable. I had the feeling he wasn't going to believe me when I said I forgave him, which I did once Milady left. He just blinked at me.

So, being the horrible person I am, I decided to take advantage of him and ask him about Lyle. I remembered what they had said, and it seemed to indicate that Lyle was alive, albeit a prisoner. This gave me happy feelings. I had not liked learning that Lyle was dead.

He kept blinking at me, occasionally mumbling apologies. Dammit, I knew it was too good to be true. I couldn't even take advantage of people properly. I decided, instead, to cuddle Peter and watch TV. I asked Sylar politely whether he wanted to watch it with me and he just nodded.

I picked the remote up from the bedside table and turned the TV on, immediately bombarded with some reality TV show, possibly about renovating houses although there was a lot of drama for something that required none. I flicked through the channels – my god, there were a lot – until finally some mushy romantic comedy – _The Holiday_, I think – came on and I settled down to watch it, stroking Peter.

I wished it was a DVD though. Then I could skip past the Cameron Diaz/Jude Law scenes. But oh well. We can't always get what we want. Hehe. I do love that song.

Sylar relaxed enough so that we were soon laughing together whenever Jack Black came on screen. Really, anything that man does is funny.

__________________________________________________________________________________

**Yes, well. Hopefully the next chapter is less serious. Because I felt very depressed writing that. Maybe I should write a crack fic to cheer myself up. **

**Review please. **


	11. How I Learnt About Mind Connections

**Chapter Eleven: How I Discovered There Are A Lot Of People With Mind Connections**

**Author's Note: Hmm, not sure about this chapter. Oh well. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes. And I'm too poor to buy it so...*sigh***

__________________________________________________________________________________

We had just reached the part in _The Holiday _when Kate Winslet's character is showing that she _does _have gumption by throwing out Rufus Sewell's character when Peter burst into the room. Well...okay, maybe not _burst _into the room, more like he opened the door and walked very calmly into the room. So, absolutely no bursting.

He smiled at us while standing in front of the TV screen (which was annoying). "I see the patient is alive and well," he said while I tried unsuccessfully to peer around him (thus discovering that, unlike my experience in the White Room, I was not pain free). I winced although the pain wasn't too bad. Just very annoying. And obviously I missed the rest of the Iris-_does_-have-gumption scene, dammit.

"Maybe I spoke too soon," he added, sounding worried. He moved around the bed, stopping just beside Sylar and thus I saw that it was another Cameron Diaz/Jude Law scene. Double dammit.

"I'm fine," I said, turning towards them slowly just in case I bumped something. And that's when I saw it (thank the gods the movie was on a part I could ignore otherwise...).

Peter laid a hand on Sylar's shoulder, squeezing slightly. Sylar reached up and grasped his hand, twining their fingers together. They smiled at each other.

Oh. My. God.

Elle was going to be _so _jealous.

What the hell had happened while I was unconscious? Seriously I pick the worst times to get injured (not that I get injured on a regular basis or anything). And, now that my mind was less tense that it had been (the effects of watching a mushy romantic comedy, I guess), I wondered why Peter was even here. I mean, I had the feeling that he didn't exactly like Milady (and the feeling was probably mutual). So...why?

Peter was smiling at me (damn mind readers) when I finally realised they were watching me...watch them holding hands. I felt my face flush. Peter's smile widened into a full-on grin (really, he takes far too much pleasure in this whole telepathy thing).

"Gabriel, I think Rebecca might be a little hungry," he said, glancing down at Sylar (who, whenever he'd look at me, would look so very guilty and then he'd look at Peter and – oh my god – adorableness). "Would you mind going and finding her some food?" He added, shrugging, "I'd do it myself but I'd probably get lost. And I don't think Milady would appreciate me wandering around the place."

Sylar nodded and stood up. They brushed past each other and...oh my god, this was a dream, wasn't it? This _couldn't _be real. Reality never makes me this happy.

Peter was giving me this _look _when I finally emerged from my happy daze, like he was terribly amused and trying not to laugh. He better not laugh, if he knows what's good for him.

"You know, you're the weirdest girl I've ever met," he said, taking Sylar's place beside the bed. He leaned back in the chair and gazed at me. "And I've met some pretty weird people." I bet you have.

I decided to take this as a compliment (because if I had taken it as an insult, anger would have immediately followed and I was a bit too tired for that right then). "Thank you."

He laughed and leaned forward. "So I guess you'd like to know what happened while you were out cold?" he asked, his brown eyes serious now.

"I suppose so," I said, not really sure I wanted to, even if it _did _mean I'd get to see the reason Peter and Sylar had just held hands (!!!). It had something to do with the expression on Peter's face. I noticed then that he looked incredibly tired, dark circles around his eyes, lines where there shouldn't be any.

I suddenly didn't want to know but Peter was already reaching across the bed and placing his hands on either side of my head. I felt only that they were cool to the touch and then everything changed.

It took me awhile to adjust. When I finally did I realised I was looking out of Peter's eyes as he gazed down at a giggling baby Noah. Something was dangling in his face and he was batting at it with two chubby hands. Peter was laughing at the reaction a small bell could cause when –

_Noise_. Pain, screaming, fear, panic, his name shouted over and over and over...

_Peter, Peter, Peter, Peter..._

I felt him thrust the pain aside. He knew where it was coming from instinctively, shoved the bell into Elle's hands and vanished as he strode across the room.

He appeared in Sylar's room and I took in the sight of my body, lying there all helpless, a bloody hole in its stomach. I wondered if I was confusing my sudden need to vomit with that of Peter's but quickly decided that no, I certainly wasn't. Because Peter's attention had immediately turned towards...

...Sylar, yelling, crying, screaming, _shaking _me even though I knew – Peter knew – he shouldn't do that. He shouldn't do that because I looked half way to death already, blood already staining the covers, and he was just making it worse.

Peter made a quick decision, so quick I didn't even feel him make it. Maybe he'd made it a long time ago. He rushed over, his hands grasping Sylar, pulling him away. "Gabriel, Gabriel, you're only making it worse..." And Peter held him in his arms and rocked him as he sobbed.

And that's when I realised that Peter was the only one who ever called him Gabriel. I know, a weird time to realise that, but it was true.

_You know, I never noticed that before. _The voice inside my head – Peter's head? Whatever – sounded like it was smirking. And there was just a hint of something else...

_Peter, why are you showing me this? _I asked, since, although it certainly took me awhile, I eventually realised the voice was his.

_Didn't you want to know? _He answered my question with one of his own. I heard the smile in his voice.

We watched as Peter and Sylar laid me flat out on the bed. _Not like this. _

He ignored me. _Watch. This is when everything gets interesting..._

Peter had directed Sylar to hold my left hand while he took a hold of my right one. He closed his eyes so obviously I couldn't see anything but I felt him delve into my mind and find...nothing. Not as though I was dead – my heart was beating, however faintly, he knew that much – but as though I just...wasn't there. He didn't understand.

_You're going to have to explain that to me_, he said mildly but I shushed him because he'd just opened his eyes. Sylar was grasping my hand tightly between both of his, eyes closed tight. I felt Peter stifle a gasp as he realised what he was doing.

_What? _I said, confused. _What's he doing? _I knew he was doing something because I could feel through Peter that he was. I just...couldn't see what it was.

_He's _fixing _you, _Peter said, and I heard the awe in his voice as he remembered, felt it mingle with the memory's mixed emotions, of shock and a certain giddiness that left him (and me, I admit) reeling. I felt as though my mouth should be a forming a grin which hurt my cheeks with its intensity.

Peter now grasped the hand he was holding and I felt him somehow join Sylar, covering every tiny spot he'd managed to fix with cool pressure, like soft white bandages or hands lathering on ointment.

It took hours to heal me that way. It was nothing like Linderman, fast and somehow belying the true nature of the power he held. Instead it was slow, exhausting, draining energy with every muscle knitted back into place, every piece of flesh melded back together. Sweat dripped into their eyes, they blinked it away but now their eyes had felt the welcoming darkness and wanted more. It reminded me of something...now what was it? Oh yes, Daine healing those animals in _Wild Magic. _That's right.

Thank the gods I was unconscious while they did this to me otherwise I'd probably have died just feeling how _tired_ they were. It was making me exhausted just thinking about it.

And then...and then I felt it happen. A...a mind meld, I suppose you could call it. They were two...and then they were one. Just for one instant but it was enough.

My mind screamed at me to _get out now_. I decided to follow its very sage advice_. _Where was Peter anyway?

I opened my eyes. He was sitting on that chair, gazing at me with one eyebrow raised. You know, eyebrows will never be the same for me ever again. That really had nothing to do with Peter (or his eyebrows), just an observation. Crazy, I know, but true.

"So...are you going to tell us where you were?" Peter asked and I realised Sylar was standing at the edge of the bed, holding a plate of – what was it? Oh god – chocolate brownies. How had he known?

They both noticed where my attention was fixed (yeah, when I'm hungry subtlety isn't exactly my strongest suit) and sighed simultaneously which reminded me of Morgan and Draco. Sylar handed me the plate and as I munched on an absolutely friggin' delicious brownie (seriously, I am so sending whoever made them a huge fruit basket...once I work out where to get one from) they both gazed at me.

"Who are Morgan and Draco?" It surprised me that Sylar was the one to ask, a fact which immediately made me think of that _moment_...

Anyway, I swallowed and tried not to look either of them in eye (as though that helped, ha). "They're no one." This time I gulped and hoped they wouldn't ask me any more questions.

Peter sighed. "Maybe we should just let you have some rest."

I nodded, already feeling my eyelids flutter closed. The last things I heard were their chuckles as the plate fell out of my hands and the disgruntled yelp from poor Peter the cat as it nearly squished him. I do not understand why I fell asleep so suddenly but I have a feeling they had something to do with it.

When I woke up I felt much better. I moved and there was no pain so that was good. Maybe I wouldn't kill them as much as I thought I would. Maybe I'd just seriously maim them. Yeah, that sounded good. After all they'd made me fall asleep in the middle of one delicious brownie, barely having digested the first one or the fact that my fantasies kept coming true – a fact which was going to kill me, you mark my words.

It seemed I had almost prophesised my own death because when I turned over I found them _kissing in that chair._ Nearly gave me a heart attack_._ Seriously. Peter was on Sylar's lap and they were playing some serious tonsil hockey. What the hell is with that chair? I do not remember it being there before. Maybe there was some sort of enchantment on it, yeah, that made sense, because this _couldn't _be real. It _had to _be a dream. But then I remembered that enchantments don't exist and that burst my bubble pretty quickly.

I basically lay there gaping at them until Mohinder burst into the room. And, unlike Peter, he really did burst into the room. There's a mark on the wall behind the door to prove it. His entrance put an immediate cessation on the impressive snogging going on in front of me although I noticed that Peter did not move from his position, only glanced at Mohinder, puzzled. Sylar even kept his arm around Peter's waist.

Elle was _so _going to be jealous. Insert as much evil laughter as you want here.

"Mohinder?" Sylar asked, sounding a bit annoyed. I would, if I was him, though. "Did you want something?"

Mohinder placed a finger over his lips, shushing us, and then closed the door behind him. He turned back towards us, an expression on his face I knew had been on my face many times. It looked like he was talking to himself, getting that half-grin on his face when you suddenly think of something funny, something other people might not find as amusing.

"What's ready?" Peter asked, brow furrowed in complete confusion. I realised he must be reading Mohinder's mind.

Mohinder just glared at him. A rather amusing expression suffused Peter's face as he must have realised what was going on. That same expression soon graced Sylar's face. It was truly a comical moment...although _very_ annoying because I was the only one who didn't know what was going on, dammit.

"Okay, we can speak freely now," Mohinder said, the sound of his voice loud after such silence. "Matt's got Micah tampering with their equipment and he's controlling the guards so they'll only see what he wants them to see," he added as I just looked utterly confused. He sounded so much more different than that Cockroach Man I'd met – what was it? – two days ago.

Two days. Was that really how long it had been?

Mohinder was speaking to Peter and Sylar when I finally returned to reality (really, it couldn't have been just _two days_) and then he suddenly stopped. His brow furrowed rather adorably. Hmm, I have never thought of him as remotely attractive. Maybe he should furrow his brow more often. Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. See what I mean about the eyebrows?

"Elle would like to know if you're alright," he said and I realised he was talking to me, an amused smile twisting his mouth upward. "And whether you saw anything interesting when you were dead." He paused. "Dying, she means." There was another pause. "She would also like Sylar to know that if he ever hurts you again she will decapitate him with his own intestines." Well, that was certainly Elle. Really, did she have to be so graphically descriptive? That image was going to be burnt into my brain, you mark my words.

I smiled. "Tell her I'm fine and that she is going to be so jealous when I tell her what just happened." Sylar glared at me and I realised then that he hadn't known I had been watching him and Peter. Ha! I poked my tongue out at him.

Mohinder got this weird look on his face and then snorted. "She just started squealing," he informed us. "And now she's started yelling 'Details!' and running around the room." A pause. "Now she's disappeared off into Nathan's office for some reason." I smirked. Oh, Elle. So predictable.

"Now there's something you need to tell us," Mohinder said, his tone now über-serious. Spoil sport.

"Is there?" I said, cautious. Really, these people's loyalties are so changeable it's like watching the hairstyles of Cordelia on _Angel _in fast forward. Mohinder seemed perfectly at home in Milady's lair (hehe, her lair) when I'd last seen him.

He sighed. "Matt says he can feel there is but for some reason he can't read it."

Peter was nodding. "Yeah, I felt that way too."

Strange. The images were still so clear in my head I could call them up whenever I chose (in fact, they actually wouldn't leave me completely). Strange that mind readers couldn't see them too. I grinned. Oh, Morgan and Draco. Really, they _were _lovely...in a totally odd way, obviously.

I took a deep breath. Should I tell them? What if Milady – for all Matt and Micah's hard work – was listening in, what then? Maybe I'd just give them one thing, and then tell them the rest when we were far enough away from her.

"Lyle's alive," I said.

__________________________________________________________________________________

**How will they react? And why the hell is Lyle so important anyway? Find out next chapter! Maybe...**

**Review please. **


	12. How I Met Lyle and the Devourer

**Chapter Twelve: How I Met Lyle and the Devourer and then had Tea**

**Author's Note: So I got a bit depressed today. Reasons – a) although they have been told time and time again, people still keep drawing graffiti on the elevator door, even though it costs them money, b) the couples I ship will never be canon, c) we're doing Atonement in English (which is boring even without that), and d) apparently the Apocalypse is already here. So I wrote this to cheer myself up, a little pick-me-up, if you will. And now I'm done whining, here it is, for your enjoyment. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes. AAAHHH, THE HORROR!!**

__________________________________________________________________________________

Peter's mouth fell open. I had the almost overwhelming urge to mention flies. I resisted it obviously, now was not the time. Mohinder looked equally as shocked although he had the decency or politeness not to open his mouth for long periods of time – instead he opened his mouth, and then shut it, frequently.

Don't ask me how I saw the flash of guilt in Sylar's eyes but I did. Possibly it was because I was expecting it. I had the feeling Lyle was the thing Milady was holding over him. You know, do anything to piss me off and I'll make him seriously regret it. That sort of thing. Now if only I could figure out _why _Lyle was so important to him everything would be all fine and dandy. Yeah...right. Sure it would.

Peter saw it – or heard it possibly, apparently their minds are connected or something – and his head snapped around so that those beautiful brown eyes of his could gaze at Sylar with utter disappointment in them. "You knew...and you didn't tell us?"

Well, obviously. Really, he had the tendency to state the obvious, didn't he?

"You _knew_?!" Mohinder yelled in a voice totally unlike his usual one and then grimaced. Again, don't ask me how I knew this but I could have sworn Mr. Bennet had been speaking through Mohinder for a second there. And, from the look on Sylar's face, I'd hazard a guess that he'd be willing to swear to that too.

Mohinder, however, was not the one to make the first move. Instead Peter, looking incredibly angry (and thus also incredibly adorable – and I know Sylar noticed this too because he was just the tiniest bit too slow to stop him), grabbed Sylar and then Mohinder and teleported them out of there.

Leaving me, in bed. All by myself. Yes. Thanks, guys, thanks a bunch.

I sighed. Really, being in bed is not so bad. I glanced at the (still very much turned on, really, why hadn't they turned it off?) TV and then emitted a sound which can only be described as a squeak of horror as that dreaded typewriter sound finally reached my ears.

_Atonement _had replaced _The Holiday_. The absolute horror.

Now, maybe there are some out there who like _Atonement_ (and I can't really blame them, I mean, it has James McAvoy, who is pretty hot) but me, I'm not one of them. It's depressing and, besides, has nothing whatsoever to do with atonement. I've watched _Angel_, I know what atonement is. Then again, maybe I just don't like it because – whether they happen in real life or not – I love happy endings. I always have. Probably always will.

But enough of the tangent. Now at least you understand why, after burying my head in the pillow, I huffed angrily for a bit and then got up. I suppose I could have just changed the channel, waited around for them to eventually remember me and return but (and this is very weird for me, since that is usually what I'd do) I decided instead to explore. I mean, it's not every day you find yourself in some bad guy's lair.

Of course I realised much later that that was only a (rather pathetic) excuse and that, really, I should have just stayed in bed. I have to say that I am a total and complete idiot. There, I said it. Wasn't too hard.

Anyway, I left the room. In about ten seconds I was utterly lost. I kept walking though because, well, what else was I going to do? Sit down for a bit and cry? Yes, okay, so that may have happened at some point (what? It's been a stressful two days or so) but whatever.

The point _is _that when I reached the door I didn't know where I was. I'd gone down a few stairs, possibly something I shouldn't have done. Anyway, the door, right. You know how walls could possibly have ears? Or speak, or whatever? Well, it felt like that door was speaking to me.

It was an ordinary door, made of wood, as doors usually are. Reasonably solid (i.e. not a figment of my rather flighty imagination). The doorknob was wooden too. There was no lock. Pretty normal for a door. And yet...it felt as though it was talking to me. Not in words, per se, but somehow...it was asking me to open it. As though I was _meant _to open.

Ah, that destiny crap again.

So I opened it. Yes, pretty stupid now that I come to think about it. But then I'm human – if a big red button with the words 'DO NOT TOUCH' emblazoned on it ever eventuates, sooner or later someone will come along and push it, just to see what will happen. That's humanity for you.

The door opened into a, well, the word that could possibly describe it would be...dungeon. As in medieval dungeon, complete with chains, floors strewn with hay and...one prisoner. I glanced around. No snoring guard, a giant ring of keys strung around his belt, that I could see. Dang it.

"I'm free! I'm free!...Dang it." Heh, I love that guy.

Anyway, my gaze, after wandering the room, settled on that one prisoner. And that's when everything changed. I felt a grin nearly split my face, I was so happy. My heart was beating so erratically, and yet so fast, I thought I might be having a heart attack.

"Lyle."

It was him. Even though he'd grown (and somehow become incredibly _hot_) I knew it was him. Again, don't ask me how. There were certain similarities, and I usually have an incredibly memory for faces. I guess that explains it.

And yet...it doesn't. I _knew _him as though, somehow, we were connected...or had known each other in a past life or something. Not that I necessarily believe in stuff like that but...seeing him was an eye opener, to say the least.

"Rebecca."

He knew my name. How the hell did he know that? I wasn't really too fussed since I rushed over and clasped the bars on his cell between my suddenly very sweaty hands. I was still grinning, my heart still pounding far faster than it really should.

He was grinning too, as he wrapped his hands around mine. And I knew, as soon as he touched me.

He wasn't Lyle.

Oh, don't get me wrong, Lyle was probably in there somewhere. Really, really deep down. I doubted he was dead yet. But he wasn't the one in control. I wondered whether Sylar knew, whether he knew that Lyle was the Host, whether he knew how utterly Milady had betrayed him. I really didn't want to be the one to tell him either.

Lyle (or the Devourer or whoever he was) was still grinning at me. And I knew I was beaming just as brightly back.

"You're not Lyle," I said.

He laughed. It was a very nice laugh, actually. Not tinkling like Milady's or deep like Sylar's. Just...nice. And also incredibly _annoying. _Because somehow, with that laugh, I knew he was making fun of me. And I _really _hate that.

"Who are you?" I asked, my hands falling to my sides and clenching themselves into fists. I gritted my teeth for good measure. And then stopped because my jaw hurt. Really, I should just stop pretending I'm in a novel.

"Why, I'm the Devourer, sweetheart," he said, spreading his arms wide (for no reason I could see, possibly he thought it looked cool...it didn't). "But then, you already knew that." He smiled, an attractive loving smile that made me sick to my stomach. "My pretty Sacrifice."

What the hell? Was the guy blind as well as annoying? I am not pretty. Anyone could tell you that. Except possibly my family, but then they're biased.

"What have you done with Lyle?" I asked, even though I knew.

He was still _smiling _at me. "Oh, don't worry," he said, gesturing down at himself. "He's still in here...somewhere. Of course, that doesn't really matter. He'll be dead before long. As will you." Oh, now look! His eyes were twinkling! What did this guy think he was, huh? Prince Charming? "You're going to let me out now."

Oh, yeah, sure. I'll let something called the Devourer of Worlds, whose Sacrifice I apparently am, loose on the world. Right. As if.

"Why?" I asked, trying to make myself back away. I was shaking so much I nearly tripped. I righted myself quick enough to see his insufferable smile widen. It reminded me a little of Milady's and I wondered if she had a relationship with the Devourer akin to the one Caleb Creepy Priest had with the First in Buffy season seven. Morgan and Draco hadn't mentioned a Vessel but then they probably don't know everything.

He shrugged. "Because you will. It's destiny."

Well, fuck destiny. I wasn't going to let this loser out, no matter how much I still wanted to kiss the daylights out of him.

"Rebecca."

I looked up at him. He was smiling kindly at me. "I felt what that bastard did to you, felt it as though it was really happening to me." He grimaced at the memory. Well, who wouldn't? Although obviously he didn't know me very well. I would never call Sylar a bastard, no matter what he does. I can't help that, it's just the way I am. The fact that the Devourer felt my pain was giving me pleasant tingles though. Served him right.

"I made it happen, Rebecca," he continued. "I pushed their minds together. You wanted it so I made it happen. For you." He looked so desperately sweet part of me wanted to believe him. I mean, no one has ever tried to make my couples happen, no matter how many telepathic mind messages I send them.

I took a deep, if shaky, breath. "Why?" I asked, and then, "It wasn't real?"

He laughed. "Oh, it was real, alright. I just gave them a little push, is all. Just like you did. You know they would have taken _ages _to admit their feelings if left to themselves." He paused, and then continued, his tone slightly bemused. "Lyle knows that too."

I blinked. "You're going to kill me, aren't you." It wasn't a question. I realised I was clasping the bars again and wondered absently how I'd got there.

He nodded. "Yeah, I am." He leaned close and whispered in my ear, "So let me out."

Well, at least he was honest. I had to give him that. My grip tightened on the bars and I heard him give a frustrated sigh. I smiled. "I'll let you out," I said. That made his smile return in full force. "But only if you promise to come with me."

"Anything, my dear," he said, beaming at me, his fingers scrambling at the bars nervously. "Everyone gets a last wish."

I paused before I unlocked the cell door (the key was hidden behind one of the stones that made up the wall, the Devourer directed me to it). I heard another frustrated sigh and grinned. Really, this was starting to become rather funny.

"When's this Ritual of the Blood supposed to take place anyway?" I asked.

"A week from now so I'll not be killing you yet, if that's what you're worried about," he replied, his eyes on the key in the lock.

I let him out eventually. It was terribly funny watching him get annoyed at me for delaying it though. I had to wonder why Milady had him locked up in the first place. Maybe she didn't trust him. Strange that I trusted him then. Well, I was an idiot so I suppose that could explain it.

"Fresh air, take me to fresh air," he said, his eyes closed. He gave me his hand. I stared at it, a bit puzzled. What exactly did he want me to do with it? Drag him along? I shrugged. As he wished.

His eyes flew open when I did and he laughed, surprised. I dragged him all the way out of the building too. Apparently he found resisting me fun. Weird. I waved at Mal who, noticing that Sylar was not with me, returned the gesture cheerfully. He seemed a nice fellow.

The Devourer blinked when we exited the building and stepped out into the sun and his mouth fell open just as Peter's had done. He laughed again, for reasons unknown to me. I think – and this is sheer speculation – he may have liked the feel of the sun on his skin. I shook my head, confused at his behaviour. Really, and I thought _I _was weird.

I knew where I was going. The Petrelli mansion. It took us _ages_. Not only because the Devourer kept slowing us down with his tendency to gawp at anything and everything, but also because I had only been there a total of twice and had to keep asking directions. By the time we finally arrived it was mid-afternoon. And I was hungry.

So too, it appeared, was the Devourer. He kept frowning and glancing at his stomach. For an evil world destroying demon thing, he really wasn't that frightening. In fact, and I can't believe I'm saying this, he was sort of adorable. While, at the same time, also completely annoying.

I didn't knock. Instead I barged right in...to find Elle pressing her ear against the living room door, obviously eavesdropping. She glanced up at the noise we made barging in (you have no idea, the bastard actually _tripped _over the doormat) and her blue eyes widened. She pushed the living room door open immediately.

"...didn't tell us – Elle, what did I say about not interrupting?" Mr. Bennet sounded _this close _to exploding. Thank the gods _he _didn't have Ted Sprague's power otherwise...well...you get the idea.

"I think you're gonna want to see this," she said, gesturing at us.

Mr. Bennet strode out into the entrance hall, the most ferocious scowl on his face (I spared a thought for poor Sylar who had probably been getting the shit metaphorically kicked out of him), and paused when he saw me and the guy who looked like his son. His whole demeanour changed.

"Lyle..." he whispered. He staggered and had to grab onto the door frame for support (what door frames are there for, really). "You're alive...I..." He blinked stupidly at us.

I glared at the Devourer. _No food for you unless you pretend to be Lyle_, I thought, not really expecting him to hear me. _They can't know._

He flashed me one of his blinding smiles and I realised he'd heard me. Oh gods, not another mind reader.

"Dad!" the Devourer yelled and rushed forwards. There was much hugging. I felt a bit bad for having the Devourer pretend instead of telling them who he really was but the look on Mr. Bennet's face more than made up for it.

Sylar, Peter, Mohinder, Matt and Micah (oh my freaking god, how had he become so _hot_?) followed behind him. All of them stood there, gaping. I wondered who was looking after Noah but that question was answered almost immediately (yeah, it was sort of creepy _how _quickly) when Nathan came down the stairs, frowning and holding a sleeping Noah in his arms.

Elle dragged me off for some much need gossip while the others got reacquainted with Lyle (or acquainted with the Devourer, whatever floats your boat). Thus I missed Sylar's reaction, darn it.

"So?" she said, her blue eyes sparkling. "Details?"

Oh. That. I'd almost forgotten. I filled Elle in on all the juicy details. She squealed so much that they all came running to see what could have made such a dreadful noise (okay, it wasn't that dreadful, I just wanted to say that). They all laughed when they found out what had happened to make her squeal like that (except Peter and Sylar, who looked a bit embarrassed, not that I blamed them).

They eventually remembered to introduce me to Micah. He was very interesting although a lot of what he said was peppered with jargon that I had no knowledge of. We got on remarkably well, for all that. Possibly because neither of us could understand half of what the other was saying? Whatever.

I also eventually told Sylar I wasn't going back to Milady's. He wasn't too surprised at that. I had the feeling he wasn't going to return either (this was later confirmed that very night when he didn't leave). I guess she didn't have much holding him to her, what with Lyle (or the Devourer) being here. I really didn't want to be around her when she found out. If she is anything like Ann, her temper is explosive (although often never seen). Hopefully Mal had left by then.

Matt ordered Chinese again which was nice. Although I still had plenty of questions (Mohinder? – and yes, that is a question – Where the hell had Micah come from? What was between Lyle and Sylar? Would I ever be able to eat those delicious chocolate brownies again? Would Sylar go back for Peter the cat and the fluffy brain? Stuff like that) they could wait until morning.

I was a bit worried about Peter the cat and the fluffy brain though. Hopefully Milady wouldn't take her anger out on them.

__________________________________________________________________________________

***gasp* What will happen to Peter the cat and the fluffy brain? Stay tuned!**

**Review please. **


	13. How Sylar told a Story and Hiro Appeared

**Chapter Thirteen: How Sylar told a Story and Hiro was a Hero...Sort Of**

**Author's Note: So...yeah, hello. MY PHILOSOPHY COURSE IS AWESOME. Anyway...thanks to Boisterous Hal for the idea of the dream mentioned (which may or may not be turned into an actual fanfic, depending on my mood). Oh, and also a shout out to YingYang13, I think, who wanted me to add Hiro and Ando into the mix. Yeah. So...enjoy. **

**Disclaimer: Do you think it's unlucky if I tell you I do not own Heroes on the THIRTEENTH chapter? Maybe one day I'll own it now...oops. Just jinxed myself, didn't I?**

__________________________________________________________________________________

Sylar and I lay on the bed. It wasn't as comfy as the one at Milady's (and they say evil doesn't pay, ha!) but it would do. I didn't really know why Sylar was there – since before I'd left, it had been pretty obvious he'd been _very _occupied, if you, uh, get what I mean – and it's not as though I was _complaining_ (who else can say they lay next to Sylar on a freaking bed?!) but it was a bit confusing to say the least.

Plus I was tired. Everyone needs their beauty sleep because not everyone is as naturally adorable as certain people _who will not be named here because that is just petty_. Certainly I needed more beauty sleep than most. But it's not as if I could kick a super powered ex-serial killer (I really had to ask about that though, I mean, just because he hadn't killed anyone in front of me, doesn't mean he wasn't still at it) out against his will.

"So..." I began slowly, having absolutely no idea what I was going to say and secretly hoping he'd fill in the many gaps. He turned his head towards me.

"Mmm?" Really, did he have to be so attractive? It made me very nervous.

And that is when my ugly foot somehow got stuck in my not-as-ugly mouth. "So, what's the story between you and Lyle?" I asked, immediately cringing because, well, even I knew I'd said something monumentally stupid (or at least far too personal).

He was silent for a very long moment. I thought he'd decided not to answer me and really, could you blame him? So I just sighed and resumed my previous position (which, truth be told, was far more comfortable), thinking my question would have to wait for another day.

He sighed and I was immediately awake (yes, okay, I'd been half asleep). Was he actually going to answer the question or would I be disappointed yet again?

"I went to their house one day," he began and after awhile I realised he wasn't actually going to give me a reason for this. Possibly he'd been bored? It'd be what I'd do if I was a super powered serial killer with nothing to do. Go pick a fight, is what I'm saying. "And he was there, him and that _dog _of theirs." He was smiling so I knew he didn't feel as much disgust as he seemed to towards Mr. Muggles (who was where, exactly?). "The only one there. I should have killed him, really." He paused.

I waited for him to continue, staring at the ceiling as I did so. It was a very white ceiling, as ceilings go. No cracks that I could see. Nothing to count. Nice sort of light fixture in the middle. Pretty ordinary. I decided that ceilings – at least, ceilings like this one – were possibly the most boring things in existence. After that movie with Russell Crowe I saw with Mum, the only movie I've ever fallen asleep a quarter of the way through.

Eventually he continued. "I don't really know _why _I didn't kill him. It would have been so easy... He was blinking at me, holding that damned animal as though he actually cared about it." He laughed. Really, his laugh was so...tingle-inducing. I might need an extra dose of Noah because my treacherous heart was starting to act up again. "And then he said it – 'If you're here to rob us, you can take all my sister's things, just leave my Playstation games, okay?'"

He laughed again and I had to snort. Really, I mean, it was an incredibly stupid thing to say but I could tell it had impressed him. It sort of reminded me of something Leo would have said. Maybe it was a brother thing.

"Really? He said that?" I asked, since it was pretty unbelievable.

He nodded. "Yeah," he said, after he'd caught his breath. "When I actually laughed – and you have no idea how long it had been – he was sort of stumped. He just sat there, staring at me. Eventually the dog squirmed out of his grip and ran away. About then I think he started to get scared." He paused. "And for once in my pathetic life, I didn't want to instil fear. It's weird because I was an only child, I'd never known what it was like to have a sibling, let alone a younger brother. I wanted...I didn't want him to be scared of me."

"So what did you do?" I asked since he'd stopped and I really wanted to know. And don't tell me you wouldn't. You lie, the lot of you.

He shrugged. "I don't really remember." He laughed softly. "Isn't that strange? Possibly one of the most important moments in my life – right up there with meeting Dr Suresh – and I can't really remember." Well, that was bloody anti-climactic.

I turned my head to tell him to remember, damn it, and found him smiling at me. Oh ho, so it was that way, was it? "You're just winding me up, aren't you?"

The smile upgraded to a smirk. "How'd you guess?"

I pushed him half heartedly. "Oh, don't you go being sarcastic with you. Now, continue with the story, it was just getting good."

He raised an eyebrow, distracting me just a little. Okay, maybe more than a little. I mean, god, people, those eyebrows are impressive, you have to admit. "Only just?"

I rolled my eyes. He laughed and continued. "I assured him I wasn't there to murder, maim and/or rob him and he seemed to calm down after that. Then he introduced me to the wonder that is _The X Files_, which was what he was watching before I so rudely interrupted and, well, after that..." He shrugged.

I was silent. The revelation that Sylar thought _The X Files_ was, and I quote, a wonder fairly blew me away, let me tell you. I'm sorry but I'm just going to have to shout it...

SYLAR LIKED THE FREAKING X FILES!!!!

Um, anyway, ignore that little outburst. "So, what you're saying is that you basically bonded over _The X Files_?" I asked, because I needed to clarify that point to death.

He raised an eyebrow, probably at the fact that I was trying not to sound too breathless and failing miserably. Really, for only having met me two days or so ago, he knew me too well. "Why? Does that surprise you?"

Hmm, now that I came to think about it, not so much. I mean – "Trust no one" and "I want to believe." Good quotes and so _fitting_. Thus I shook my head. "Not really."

And then there was silence as I tried to get my head around the fact that Sylar's relationship with Lyle had begun over something as simple, but oh so enjoyable, as _The X Files_. I felt like I should pinch myself but, remembering my previous experience with this tried and true method, decided against it.

Before I could ask more questions he smiled rather sadly and said, "You were right, you know." I was confused. Right, me? I'd actually been right about something? Go figure. I felt a bit pleased with myself until he added, "I watched as Milady slaughtered his family and made it look like an _accident_." He fairly spit that word out, like it was poison. "Even the dog." Well, that explained something at least.

"Why didn't you try and stop it?" I asked.

He sighed. "She would have killed Lyle then too. He only escaped because I said he'd be the perfect Host. I thought I could, I don't know, stop it from happening or something. But I couldn't." He sounded so _sad_ and utterly disappointed in himself. I had the feeling he berated himself time and time again, trying to think of a different, better, way things could have gone.

I frowned. "But he's here, and he's Lyle," I said, even though I knew it wasn't true.

He smiled at me. "I'm not stupid, Rebecca, I know that wasn't really Lyle."

Oh.

"I didn't really expect the Devourer to be that...accommodating," he continued. "Or that you'd willingly befriend it."

I was horrified at the very idea. "Me? Befriend that...that...I'm going to be sacrificed to it, why would I befriend it?" Strangely it was a bit hard referring to the Devourer as an 'it.' Somehow it was, well, a 'he' for me.

He laughed and then, quite out of the blue, ruffled my hair. I was a bit stunned. "Why was Lyle such a good Host anyway?" I asked to distract him from the fact that that ruffle was very tingle-inducing. I see the way you're looking at me and I say, again, you lie if you say it wouldn't induce tingles with you.

"The thing about the Host is that it's very different from the Sacrifice," he said, and for some reason I felt as though I was back in the classroom. Oh, if only my teachers had been as attractive as Sylar was! On second thoughts, that is probably a bad idea. I wouldn't have been able to concentrate _at all_. "With the Sacrifice there are specific..._qualities_, shall we say," he grinned as I screwed up my face in memory of those _qualities_. "With the Host, it's...different. It's more about...personality. Basically you have to have a particularly strong personality to be fit for the role."

"Wouldn't it be easier to have a weak personality?" I asked, since, well, wouldn't it? But then I've always been a fan of the easy (and far more practical) road.

"The Devourer just likes a challenge, I suppose," Sylar replied.

The door opened then and Elle entered, all flushed. "What the hell are you guys doing in here? The party's downstairs, come on!" She shouted this and then left, obviously expecting us to follow. She also threw me a look, just before leaving, which clearly said, "You're sabotaging the plan! This is the perfect opportunity to get pictures!"

I sighed at about the same time as Sylar. We smiled at each other, then my smile immediately turned into a grumpy frown and I clutched a pillow, burying my face in it. Mmm, it was so comfy and I _really _wanted to get some sleep...

"Come on, silly," he said, prying my fingers gently from my beautiful, soft anchor to the world of sleep. "You know she'll never stop bugging you until you come down."

He made a very good point. I'd only known Elle for about two days and I already knew about that tendency to bug until she got her way. I suppose that's what made her such a great Peter/Sylar shipper. I had to grin at my genius. Best thing I'd ever done, showing Elle that fanvid.

I sighed and he pulled me out of the room and down the stairs where I was immediately bombarded with the sounds of _Somebody Told Me _by the Killers. Which, don't get me wrong, is a good song but not something you want to hear when all you want is _sleep_.

The celebration of Lyle's return was still in full swing. I don't know how – and I was _not _going to ask – but someone had found one of those disco balls and now it was twirling on the ceiling held up by what turned out to be some sort of sticky substance, not unlike glue. I had the feeling Mohinder had something to do with that. Not the most pleasant thought.

_Somebody Told Me _quickly changed to some sort of tango music and before I knew it Mr. Bennet had pulled me onto the dance floor – basically the middle of the living room, I hadn't actually realised how large that room really was, it was almost as though someone had bashed down a few walls to accommodate us – and was suddenly dancing with me.

I have always loved dancing. Not that I'm _good _at it or anything – au contraire, I probably suck at it – but somehow I just...love it. I guess I just love moving to a particular song and making people laugh at my incredibly stupid moves. I'm suppose what I lack in talent I make up for in enthusiasm.

And guess what? In the middle of the Petrelli's living room I called Mr. Bennet HRG. He just laughed and spun me around. Bit anti-climactic but oh well. I was happy.

I was exhausted by the time I finally tripped back to bed. Elle, Mr. Bennet, the Devourer and I had been the last ones up. Peter and Sylar had left ages ago (don't ask me where, I wasn't paying much attention; neither, much to my surprise when I asked her the next morning, was Elle), Nathan had had to go to bed early (because of his job, I guess) and had left before the party really started, taking Noah with him, and locking himself in one of the only sound proofed rooms in the house. Matt and Mohinder – during our dance, Mr. Bennet had told me Mohinder had been their spy in Milady's entourage, he hadn't elaborated beyond that – had had to leave before midnight since they didn't live there. Micah...uh, well, we discovered him lying rather adorably on the downstairs bathroom floor the next morning so, um, make of that what you will.

The next morning dawned bright and early, much to my absolute disgust. Not that I was hung-over or anything (I do not drink, long story, well...actually, no, it isn't – see, I knew someone who was an alcoholic and I saw what it did to her so...yeah, not trying it) I was just _very _sore. This was nothing compared to how I'd felt after the Ball (equivalent to the Prom, I guess, for all those Americans and whatnot out there). _Completely _different. I hurt in places I didn't even know c_ould _hurt.

I stumbled to the door when the hammering that had entered my dreams – particularly pleasing ones in which Peter and Sylar were on opposing football teams – eventually became the sound of someone pounding on the door. I opened it to discovered _the freaking Devourer _standing there all bright and cheerful spouting things like, "Rise and shine, sleepyhead!"

Whoever first said that phrase would die a long and painful death if I ever acquired the ability to time travel. Doctor, you are never there when I need you.

I glared at him – my most intimidating glare, too – but he just stood there, smiling. Smiling!

"What the hell do you want?" I said slowly, hoping whatever he said would constitute slamming the door in his insufferable face.

"There's someone here to see you," he said, still _smiling_, and bounced off down the hall, then down the stairs. I heard the murmur of voices a moment later.

I closed the door quietly then fell back into bed. I just wanted to lie there quietly and moan to myself. Why couldn't I do that in peace? And who the hell wanted to talk to me anyway? They...would...die.

I eventually made my way downstairs, having decided that the Devourer would also be murdered in generally very ingenious ways, and then stopped short, gawping.

The Devourer was there, talking with none other than Hiro Nakamura. _Hiro!_

He turned towards me as I continued to make my way down the stairs (slowly, because I wasn't looking where I was going and I always do things slowly when I do that). He looked...different. There was a little of that impressionable, naive Hiro – in the eyes, mostly – but for the most part he looked...different. Not like Future Hiro, either, oh no. He looked almost like, well, like a butler.

Yeah. A butler. He was wearing this sort of penguin suit and these round glasses and, well, was generally very butlerish. There was an air around him that just screamed it. Well, more like said it in a very polite, considerate, 'would you like some tea, sir' tone but whatever. I wondered what had happened to him.

"Ah, Miss McKenzie," he said and at least I knew his voice hadn't changed much. That was nice to know. "A pleasure to meet you at last, I'm sure." Well, it seemed like he'd learnt English really well, at least. He gestured to a suitcase and what appeared to be a cage – not like a metal one, but like the pet carrying ones – on top of which was..._the fluffy brain_.

"Ando would like me to convey his deepest regrets that he could not be here in person but certain..." he paused then continued. "...events have made him terribly busy. He thought you would like some clothes and knew that Sylar couldn't live without his cat and, uh, other things..." He trailed off, grinning at me, and that was when I saw the old Hiro.

"Thank you," I said, not really knowing what else to say. "Oh, and thank Ando, obviously."

He grinned at me. "Will do." Then he tipped an imaginary hat to me – an odd experience – and left.

"Well..." I clapped my hands together. "That was...interesting."

Sylar came down the stairs then, rubbing sleep from his eyes (yes, he looked pile-of-mushy-goo-inducingly adorable, if you must know), and spotted the pet carrier cage thingy. His eyes widened. "Oh my god, Peter!" he yelled and rushed forward.

Peter came into view a few minutes later, his hair all ruffled and...oh my god, so hot. "What?" he said, rubbing his eyes as well.

There was a squeal of delight from upstairs. I had the feeling Elle had just seen Peter and Sylar coming from the same room. I closed my eyes for a minute and then turned to Sylar. "Hiro dropped them off," I said, then added, "Is Ando some sort of bigwig in the Company or something?" Note to self - read Watership Down.

It was Peter who answered me. "Oh, yeah." He yawned (stop looking at me like that, I can't give you every detail!). "Ando's Milady's right hand man or whatever."

I frowned, glanced at Sylar. "I thought that was you."

Sylar grinned at me, Peter the cat all cuddly in his arms. "Nah, I'm just the brute force. Ando's the brains." He paused, a momentary frown clouding his features. "Strange that he would bring these though..."

The silence was broken by the Devourer shouting, "Pancakes!"

Really, I'd forgotten he was there. And...wait. He could _cook_?

__________________________________________________________________________________

**Yes, the Devourer has made pancakes. Now I want pancakes *sigh***

**Review please. **


	14. How I Listened and Elle Interrupted

**Chapter Fourteen: How I Listened and Elle Interrupted**

**Author's Note: Okay, so I might be getting a cold. Hopefully it was just the weather (really, it was beautiful yesterday but now...). Thanks to Boisterous Hal for the whole 'Super Hot Daddy' thing. Yes, I actually put in there. And don't worry, Hiro and Ando fans, they will be in the next one. Possibly joined by others. Who will not be named at this point in time. So there. Ha. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes...wait...wait...no, that's right. Damn.**

__________________________________________________________________________________

Yes, the Devourer had indeed made pancakes. I wondered how this was possible. And...well...why? I mean, for a thing/guy/whatever who was, in all likelihood, going to destroy this world and everything in it he seemed to enjoy...well...life. Fresh air, sunlight, dancing, _pancakes _for god's sake. It doesn't take a total genius to see something iffy, does it?

He even had the table all set up. We're talking knives, plates, maple syrup, the whole shebang (what does that even mean anyway? What is a shebang? This is rhetorical, by the way. Just my way of poking holes in the English language). Possibly Lyle knew how to make pancakes? He must have access to Lyle's memory...after all, how else had he known Mr. Bennet was Lyle's dad?

Sylar and Peter sat down immediately and began to dig in. Obviously these questions hadn't occurred to them. Or, if they had, they obviously didn't care. And, as the Devourer grinned at me in that annoying way of his, I decided that I too wouldn't care. So I sat down as well...and instantly understood as soon as I took a bite...they were _freaking fantastic_.

Mr. Bennet was already at the table and I decided that I should probably take as many pancakes as I could before he ate them all. Really, the guy had an appetite. I guess that's what the whole reuniting-with-the-son-you-thought-was-dead thing does to you. The dancing last night could possibly have contributed a little.

He was _smiling _too. It was very infectious. I could feel my lips turning up into a bright smile just from looking at him. Glancing at Peter and Sylar, I saw the Smile Infection had struck them too.

"So, how did everyone sleep?" the Devourer said cheerfully, his hands clasped together, a white cloth draped over his forearm. I wondered if he knew he looked like a waiter. From the look he gave me I'd guess, yes, he did indeed. He grinned wickedly before letting his eyes drift over to Peter and Sylar, who were too busy exclaiming over the delicious pancakes to notice. "Good, I trust? Anything...interesting happen?"

Really, he was the most annoying creature I have ever had the misfortune to meet. Like either of them was going to—

"Yes, Peter and I had sex last night," Sylar said, his tone absolutely serious. He glanced up from his pancakes and smiled innocently. And then added, "Ow." I had the feeling Peter had kicked him under the table.

Of course I was wide-eyed and gaping in amazement. Thank the gods I was sitting down otherwise...well...there'd have been some serious injuries. The Devourer was blinking really fast as though he didn't believe what he was hearing. Mr. Bennet seemed to pay a certain crack in one of the plates a tremendous amount of attention all of a sudden.

"You realise you weren't actually supposed to _tell _them that," I heard Peter grumble and then everyone immediately shut up because Nathan had entered the room, baby Noah in his arms. Mmm, hello, Super Hot Daddy.

Everyone looked at me. Oops, had I said that out loud? Eek.

It appeared that I _had_, in fact, said that out loud although Nathan did his darnedest to ignore it (really, he's wonderful, isn't he? Although, he _has _had a bit of practice, what with the whole Peter/Sylar thing. At least this one might not give him nightmares).

"Right," he said into the sudden gaping maw of silence. I wanted to bang my head against the table but then that would mean turning my head towards the table and thus missing much looking-at-Nathan time. And, really, that would be time wasted because he looked....he looked...oooh. Yes, that's right: oooh.

I had the feeling Peter's embarrassment was no longer caused solely by Sylar's little confession. At least I hoped that was what the weird faces he was making in my direction meant. Hopefully he hadn't been having some sort of random fit.

Anyway I decided to leave there immediately, possibly to go help the Devourer (who had disappeared into the kitchen as soon as Nathan appeared) with the dishes. I stood up, as one does when leaving a room. For some reason Nathan seemed to take this to mean something completely different and dumped baby Noah in my arms.

"You don't mind taking him, do you?" he asked, flashing that charming smile of his. "It's just I have to be at work in..." He glanced down at his watch. "...ten minutes so..." I had the feeling that – had he had more time – he would have batted his eyelashes at me. That _bastard_, he thought he could just smile at me and I would—

He left. He just left. Well, okay, he may have grabbed a few pancakes to take with him – while I stood there, gaping at him – but then he definitely left. Walking at a leisurely pace, as though he had all the time in the world.

I sighed, frustrated, and looked down at Noah, who giggled. The rascal actually giggled, as though he knew what had just happened. Wasn't he just adorable?

"I'd close my mouth, if I were you, Rebecca," Peter said mildly, the corner of his mouth twitching. "Flies might take it as an invitation and, well, fly right in."

I glared at them both as they shared a smirk. Really, why I support them as a couple is a complete mystery to me now. I decided to nickname them the Terrible Two. Peter snorted at that. After about a second Sylar also snorted. And I so do not want to know what I was on when I said I liked mind readers.

I was about to make a very witty comeback (yes, really, you would have died laughing. Seriously) when Elle entered, looking horrible. "Did I miss anything?" she said, although the way her nose was blocked it was a wonder I even managed to translate that.

"Elle, what happened to you?" I asked, worry clouding my features because, really, she looked _terrible. _

"I think I might...have a cold," she managed to say before dissolving into a sneezing fit. I absentmindedly shielded Noah.

"No, ya think?" Sylar said sarcastically followed immediately by another 'Ow.' Peter's foot had struck again, I'd guess.

She glared at him before turning her pathetic gaze on Mr. Bennet who averted his eyes. When she couldn't catch his eyes she then turned to look at Peter and Sylar who also averted their eyes. I frowned. What was the matter with everyone?

"Elle, do you need anything?" I asked hesitantly and she immediately gave me a grateful look. All three men tried to warn me – although what they thought weird glances and gestures was going to do, I will never know – but I ignored them because, well, she _really _didn't look well.

So that was how I became Elle Bishop's slave for an entire day. I fetched, carried, came when the little bell rang (yes, somehow she'd managed to find one, you have _no idea _how annoying those things are). I had to listen to her moan and bitch about being sick (apparently her body never did anything by half) as well as numerous other things you _really _don't want to know...okay, fine, I'll tell you one.

Apparently, after she had been saved by Peter and so forth, she and Sylar – after much yelling and short circuiting the neighbourhood – resumed their relationship. And then she began crying about how she knew it was never going to work because they were always fighting. When she found out she was pregnant she threw him out because he was still killing (which means that he wasn't killing now? A questioned answered? I'd have to check) and, since she had decided to turn over a new leaf, this would have been a very bad influence on the baby. Understatement of the year, much?

Eventually I left her conked out in bed, having forced the Devourer to come and read Peter/Sylar fanfiction from the laptop to her. She seemed pretty happy. He didn't. He kept giving me these pleading glances but I just ignored him.

I collapsed on the sofa downstairs and was just about to drift off, wondering absently what had happened to baby Noah, when lo and behold Peter entered, carrying said adorable kid. He sat down next to me. I just blinked sleepily and was just about to drop off when he said, "We did try to warn you," in this smug tone. It made me want to hit him...but that would mean actually moving and I was too tired for that much physical activity. I could barely brush my hair aside, I was so tired.

"Oh, you call making weird faces at me a warning, do you?" I muttered, my head lolling back.

"Well, yes," Peter said, obviously serious.

There was silence. Noah gurgled at me from his position in Peter's lap. He looked completely awake and – shudder – _chipper. _I threw him a mild glare.

"Why is she like that anyway?" I asked, closing my eyes against the – admittedly not that bright but whatever – light.

Peter sighed. He could have shrugged. I don't know, my eyes were closed. As has already been mentioned. "I don't know," he said. He seemed thoughtful. "I guess no one would ever pay much attention to her unless she screamed for it."

I thought about her father, Bob, and the apparent experiments he had performed on his own daughter. Yeah, that sounded about right.

It's amazing how much parents suck in this universe. I mean, it's almost as bad as that bad-father thing in the Buffy and Angel 'verses.

I opened my eyes and looked over at Peter and baby Noah. We stared at each other.

He was the one to look away first (possibly from something he'd read in my mind?) causing me to yell "Ha!" having never won a staring contest before.

He glared at me. Then we both gaped at Noah because he'd just _giggled. _And, well, after that we spent about half an hour cooing over him. Because he was a terribly adorable baby. Eventually however even cooing over Noah became a bit repetitive, filled as it was with many "Who's a cute boy then?" and "Yes, you are! Yes, you are!"

And that was when Peter gave me a quick, nervous glance, squirmed nervously and then gazed down at Noah's head, all the while retaining that nervousness. I had a feeling he was nervous. Just a hunch. Correct me if I'm wrong. Hmm, how many times had I said the word nervous then?

"What, Peter?" I said because his nervousness was affecting Noah. Plus he was just so _obvious. _I guess that should have made me suspicious...but it didn't. It just annoyed me...and Noah looked like he was about to cry. So I took him away from Peter, just in case.

Peter just squirmed nervously. Again.

"Peter, if you wanted a mind reader you should have gone to see Matt," I said, trying to sound exasperated while making funny faces at Noah. And that is hard, I'm telling you.

He cleared his throat. And said nothing.

I sighed. "Peter, if you're not going to say anything I'm going to take Noah upstairs and we're going to have a nice little nap. Yes, we are, yes, we are," I said, the last bit being directed at Noah because if that had been directed at Peter...odd. That's all I'm saying. I stood up, cradling a suddenly sleepy Noah in my arms. Really, that baby was smart.

Peter grabbed my arm and pulled me back down. "No, don't."

I sighed. "Looks like that nap's gonna have to wait, Noah." He blinked sleepily and then promptly fell asleep in my arms. He was so lucky he could sleep anywhere. I glared at Peter. "This had better be good."

There was silence.

I decided he needed some sort of prompt. "Is this about Sylar?" I asked, secretly hoping that it was and that he might inadvertently spill some delicious something-or-others (which I would, of course, share with Elle later when she was in a better mood).

It was like I'd flipped a switch or something. And, seriously, the guy knew how to angst. He was all "Was I good enough? I don't know if I was good enough" and "I can't believe this. What am I doing?" and "God, I'm such a freak, just ignore me" and...you get the idea. Well, I hope you do. 'Cause I'm not repeating all of it.

Of course I reassured him that I was sure he was more than good enough (I decided not to ask him what he was/wasn't good enough _at_), that, yes, he may have been a freak but no, I was not going to ignore him, and so forth.

Yeah, right. Actually all I did was sit there and stare at him. No lie. That was all I did. I'm so pathetic. I should have said something, shouldn't I? Oh well.

When he finally finished – and after a bit of silence while I waited for him to add something – I asked, slightly puzzled, "So...what you're saying is...you regret it?"

He looked like someone had slapped him. "No!" he practically shouted and then slapped a hand across his mouth. We both glanced down at Noah but he was still sleeping peacefully. "I mean, no, that's not what I'm saying at all...it's just..." He shrugged, helpless. Apparently his inability to describe things rivalled my own.

Yet again there was silence. It appeared to be our default mode.

"Okay, um," I said, to fill up that silence. "Tell me how it started then." That should be simple enough.

He took a deep breath. "Okay, it was last Christmas...and for some reason we were all together...and there was mistletoe." He shrugged. "Yeah."

Okay, on the one hand I was ready to die from the adorableness of it (mistletoe, for goodness sake!), and then on the other hand he was probably the worst describer in the history of description. "And?" I prompted. "You kiss under the mistletoe and...then what? Nothing? You both just ignore it, pretend it never happened?"

He squirmed nervously. "Yeah, I guess so."

I sighed. "Why, exactly?"

He opened his mouth, then closed it. Finally he said, "Well, I mean...he's a guy and I never thought..." He shook his head as though to shake a particularly annoying thought out of there.

Oh, it was _that _way, was it? "Does it really matter?"

He blinked at me. I wondered if he'd actually ever talked about this to anyone. Probably not. He blinked again, frowning. "I...I guess not." He gave me a puzzled look as though wondering why _he _hadn't thought of that.

Our default mode – silence – again.

"I can't believe you called Nathan 'Super Hot Daddy,'" Peter said, giving me a sly smile.

I returned his smile with one of my own. I wondered if he knew about the fanfiction written about him and Nathan...

From the absolutely hilarious expression on his face, I'd guess not. If I was prone to cackling in public I probably would have. Okay, I may have indulged a little. But only a little. Mostly because he threw a cushion at me. Thankfully it missed.

"They do not!" he said, all flustered.

I smirked. "Oh yes they do. You read my mind, you _know_."

He glared at me. "You're taking some sort of sick pleasure out of this."

"Well, you just interrupted what was probably going to be a beautiful nap," I replied snootily. "I deserve a little retribution."

He threw another cushion at me. This time, it didn't miss.

"Why are you throwing cushions at Rebecca, Peter?" a voice asked from the doorway and we turned to find Sylar leaning against the doorframe, trying not to grin too widely.

"She started it," he replied simply and threw another cushion at me. I ducked and it missed. I smirked at him. Haha, as if he could get me that easily. The next cushion hit me in the face. I had to wonder where they were coming from.

"Peter," Sylar said, sounding as though he was trying not to laugh.

They looked at each other. Peter's eyes widened. "You wouldn't...would you?" He sounded so disappointed I had the feeling Sylar had just denied him something he _really _wanted.

Minus the whole getting cushions thrown at me thing, this was turning out to be a pretty good day.

"BECKY!" I heard Elle yell. "I NEED YOU!"

I sighed. What had the Devourer done now? I left Peter and Sylar to whatever they were doing – Sylar was now smirking while Peter looked increasingly more hopeful by the second – and, carrying a still sleeping Noah (that kid could sleep through anything, it seems), made my way to Elle's room. I closed the door to the living room behind me, just in case. Possibly I should have a put up a sign? Hanky Panky Alert or something?

Heh. Hanky panky. Anyway...

I found the Devourer looking panicked as Elle lay in bed, blue electricity streaming over her skin. She looked pissed. He threw me a desperate glance. I heard his voice in my head. _All I did was tell her that it is impossible to bring down a building by having sex in it._

I sighed, shifting Noah from one arm to the other. Really, he was quite heavy. "Only Buffy and Spike can bring down buildings by having sex in them." Elle threw the Devourer a triumphant look. "And only if the building is, like, really run down." Elle's look escalated in its overall triumph.

"Told you so," she said, sticking her tongue out at him.

He glared at her then threw up his hands in the eternal gesture of surrender. "Fine, whatever, I'm gonna go bake, you two can do whatever." He stormed out.

He was so...s_trange_. If I didn't know that he was the Devourer I would have sworn he was human. I shook my head at his strangeness (really, I'd have to talk to him about that) and then turned to Elle. "What was that about?"

She shrugged. "Oh, nothing." She patted the spot next to her and I sat down as directed. "So, what have you been up to?" She finally noticed Noah in my arms. "Aww, Noah!" She grasped him around the waist and brought him to her. He didn't so much as open an eye. Huh.

I told her about Peter and what he'd said. She smirked at the mention of the mistletoe. "Oh yes, I can't believe I forgot that! It was just so darn cute!" She leaned back and seemed to be indulging in some good remembering, obviously thinking I didn't need to know anything about it. Any more than I did anyway. Well, _fine_, I'd just use my trusty imagination then.

She seemed much better than before so I left Noah with her and went downstairs. I looked at the living room door for awhile and eventually decided not to open it. Just in case. So I went to the kitchen, hoping the Devourer would be there because I was in need of some good ole fun, I guess.

He wasn't. Mr. Bennet was, though. He was leaning against the bench and gazing thoughtfully out the window. The sunlight tinted his glasses so I couldn't see his eyes. That whole 'thoughtful' thing was just a guess.

"Ah, Rebecca," he said, catching sight of me just as I was about to back out of the room. I paused. "Was it your idea that he pretend to be Lyle?" The question was asked so mildly it took me awhile to grasp what he'd said. And then I just stood there, gawping at him.

"It was, wasn't it?" he said, in that exact same mild tone. It was scary.

I nodded, silent.

He titled his head as he finally looked me straight in the eye. "Do you think he's still alive?" I felt as though someone had just punched me in the gut (never having actually had that experience I can only hazard a guess). He sounded so..._sad_. Like he'd just given up. Like there was no hope.

I managed to squeak, "I think so," before the Devourer himself came striding in from the pantry, of all places, saying, "Dad, I don't think there's any..." He trailed off as he noticed us. He looked puzzled. I wondered if he'd heard.

He cleared his throat before adding, "There's no chocolate."

Mr. Bennet and I blinked at each other. _No chocolate? _we were both thinking. How was it possible?

He smiled at me and then turned to the Devourer. "I should probably go get some then."

Then he left, leaving me alone with the Devourer. Opening that living room door began to seem more attractive by the minute. "So..." I began, tapping my fingers against the bench as _It's the End of the World As We Know It _by REM came on the radio. "What are you baking?"

He raised an eyebrow then shrugged. "I was thinking...chocolate brownies." He grinned at me.

"You really _are _evil," I said, a bit surprised.

He came up to me and leaned in. I pressed myself back into the doorframe but his breath still tickled my cheek as he whispered, "Oh yes."

We looked at each other. One minute he was smirking at me – the bastard – the next, he was leaning in closer and—

"BECKY!" Elle yelled, her voice sounding much closer than it should. The Devourer was on the other side of the kitchen in seconds as Elle rushed in, breathless, still holding Noah, who looked to be wide awake. Not crying, thank goodness. Bit of luck right there.

"Becky," she said, grabbing the doorframe with her free hand. "Why didn't you tell me Peter and Sylar were making out in the living room? I would have brought a camera down." She looked over at the Devourer. "Hey, um, you," she snapped her fingers as though commanding the very air to reveal his name. When it didn't she simply continued, "Go get the camera."

He did as she said, leaving Elle and I alone in the kitchen. Well, Noah was obviously there, and I saw Peter the cat sneak out of the pantry so maybe not 'alone' alone. But close enough.

"Ohmygod!" she said, making it into one huge exclamation. "Becky, this is like a dream come true!" As she gushed on I wondered what the _fuck _had just happened. I realised that I was in way over my head. Not that this hadn't occurred to me before but it had only just sunk in. Yes, I am slow. Deal with it.

God, when would I get some _sleep_?

__________________________________________________________________________________

***gasp***

**Review please. **


	15. How I Watched Reruns and Hiro Returned

**Chapter Fifteen: How I Watched Reruns and Got Dragged Away by Hiro, Kicking and Screaming (Not)**

**Author's Note: I know, it's been awhile *dodges vegetables* but here it is. Better late than never, I hear you grumble. Apologises for those who wanted to see Ando, that'll be next chapter. Haha!**

**Disclaimer: Dear Diary, today I learnt that I do not own Heroes. I cried for hours. Bastards.**

__________________________________________________________________________________

I was finally able to get some sleep but only after Elle had burst in on Peter and Sylar, flashing the camera every which way. From the quick glance I'd taken as I ran past the door and up the stairs, Peter the cat slinking his way around my ankles and almost tripping me, Elle was getting some mighty fine pictures (hopefully she'd give me some when she got them developed).

I chose a door at random (well, they all looked alike so there was a chance I would pick the right one), opening it slowly in case anyone was there. It turned out that yes, there most certainly was. I closed the door immediately, trying not to think of what Ann would say (or squeal) if I told her I had just seen Matt and Mohinder in bed together.

I eventually found an empty room (well, I'd found one before that but Micah had been curled up around the toilet bowl in the adjourning bathroom so that one was out of the question) although it wasn't the one I'd slept in last night. I eyed the bed warily. I had the feeling I knew whose room this was but decided against letting my mind wander down that path. Instead I curled up underneath the covers and, feeling Peter the cat sneak up the bed and flop down almost on top of my head, fell asleep.

I remembered waking up to the sound of Elle shouting my name and then heard someone shushing her. I gazed blearily at the bedroom door. When it didn't open I shuffled back down and drifted off, but not before pushing Peter the cat off the pillow. He immediately jumped onto my stomach and curled up there instead. Little cuddleslut. Just like Buffy.

When I woke up again I felt, oddly, refreshed. I had never felt that way before, pretty good experience, I'm telling you. It was dark, the curtains being closed and the fact that it was night giving me reasons for the fact that I couldn't see the bedside clock until I had pushed Peter the cat off my head – really, what is his problem? – and reached for the lamp.

Whose room _was _this? The clock was one of those round ones, with a picture of (_ohmygod_) Goofy on it. I had the very strange feeling that this was Peter's room. Don't ask me why, I mean, he didn't strike me as the kind of person who would own a Goofy clock. Well...mostly he didn't. When he wasn't being an utter child and participating in staring contests with me. Hmm.

I decided to leave that question for another time (as well as that one that asked, if this was Peter's room then wouldn't that mean...oops, don't go there, Rebecca) and finally realised what the Goofy clock had been trying to tell me all along – it was three o'clock in the morning. 3 AM. 0300. I had never been up this early, or at least if I had been I'd have been really _really _tired.

And then my stomach began making noises and I realised with horror that I had missed not only lunch (I blamed Elle) but dinner as well (my fault this time, darn it). God, no wonder I was hungry. I decided to go down to the kitchen and hunt up some food (god, Mr Bennet had probably bought chocolate by now, ha, the Devourer had probably made chocolate brownies).

Let me just say, walking around in the dark is a pain in the ass. Oh, it's alright if you know your way around the place (I could probably find my way around my house blindfolded, not that I would ever actually want to be blindfolded...ever) but when you don't, oh dear. It was a wonder I didn't wake anyone up, I made enough noise.

I bumped into the kitchen door and, grumbling, pushed it open to find Nathan and Micah grinning at me from the illuminated bench top they were sitting on. Well, Micah was sitting on it. Nathan was possibly sitting on some sort of stool. Anyway, they were smirking at me, which did nothing to calm the blush I felt travelling up my neck.

"Wake up the entire household why don't you," Nathan said, his smirk widening as I glared at him. I sniffed, walked over to the pantry and began rummaging through it. Eventually I had to admit defeat, there was nothing edible in there. God, where were those brownies?

And there they were, right beside Nathan and Micah who were still smirking at me. I think Micah took pity on me because his smirk decreased in its overall smirkiness and he offered me a bag of what looked like popcorn. "Here," he said and I tried to ignore their snorts as I grabbed the bag from his outstretched hand and began stuffing popcorn in my mouth. "I'm afraid you missed the brownies. They're all gone."

Nathan laughed out loud at my crestfallen look and brought the tin box he'd been hiding behind his back out and into the open. I glared at them both. "Shut up," I muttered, grabbing at the box. I looked around for somewhere to sit and eventually decided on the bench (I hate stools). That gave them much laughter, the bastards.

After making myself comfortable, while ignoring those two idiots (who looked like they were crying, god, I was so embarrassed), I opened the box and dug in. My god, they were so delicious! Ahhhh...

Uh, anyway. Nathan and Micah finally got their laughter under control, or at least they took a breath long enough so that I could ask why they were up so early.

Nathan glanced at his watch. "Well, I have to be at work in three hours so..." He shrugged.

I pulled a face. "Twelve hour shifts?"

"Starting today."

I shuddered. Poor Nathan. Having lived my entire life watching my Dad doing shift work I can say with absolute and total honesty that shift work sucks. A lot. Twelve hour shifts are the worst.

"And you couldn't sleep?" I asked, because, well, if I was stupid enough to actually do shift work I'd want to spend as much time in bed as I could.

He shrugged. "Well, yeah, and I was hungry." He grinned at me and wiggled his eyebrows, which was certainly, um, an experience. Micah looked like he was trying not to piss himself laughing.

Nathan smiled sweetly at him. "Why don't you tell Rebecca why you're up so early, Micah? A growing boy like you needs all the sleep he can get."

Micah stopped laughing. "I was..." he began and the rest was lost in an indistinguishable mumble.

"I'm sorry, what?" Nathan said innocently. "We didn't hear that, did we, Rebecca?"

I shook my head dumbly, wondering what the hell I was seeing. It was really funny, whatever it was.

"I was hungry," Micah said, a little bit louder this time. He glared at Nathan. "Okay, _fine_, I woke up an hour ago, wrapped around a toilet. Can you blame me for being a little hungry? I missed an entire day!"

Nathan sniggered, which was an amusing sight in itself. "Only a little?" He brandished what looked like gold tinfoil. "Oh, so, you think 'a little' constitutes eating an entire block of chocolate?"

Micah growled at him and tried to snatch the gold tinfoil (or whatever it was). Why he wanted it, I don't know. There was a bit of a mock-battle, in which the gold tinfoil was ripped into tiny bits, most of which floated to the ground.

_Oh, that's so cute_, a sleepy voice whispered in my head. I jumped, startled.

_Peter? _I thought hesitantly. What the hell was he doing in my head?

_Oh, come on, admit it, _Peter mumbled, ignoring my question. _They're just so cute!_

_Peter, who are you talking to? _I heard Sylar mumble. God, he sounded even better telepathically.

I heard Peter chuckle in my head. _He does, doesn't he? _

_Get out of my head, Peter_, I thought, not really that angry.

_Yeah, get out of her head, Peter, _Sylar mumbled. I could feel his grin in my head. _And get into mine. _

Peter sounded far too pleased with himself (obviously yesterday's self-consciousness had left him) when he said, _As you wish._

Then there was silence, in which I tried desperately not to think about what they were doing. So I turned my attention back to Nathan and Micah who had ceased their mock-battle and were now giving me weird looks.

I mumbled something along the lines of, "Don't ask," and they just shrugged, Micah asking, "Wanna watch some TV?"

I could never say no to that sort of suggestion.

We spent the remaining time until Nathan had to go to work (poor thing) watching whatever was on. Thankfully I snatched the remote away from them before I would be forced to watch reruns of _Big Brother _or _American Idol. _Eek. Eventually we settled on some crime show (I think it was one of the _CSI _ones, mercifully not the Miami one).

I think it was about five o'clock when I began noticing how comfortable Micah's shoulder looked. We were watching the ME crack open one of the bodies, readying it for some nice (read: icky) autopsy stuff, when this almost overwhelming urge to rest my head against his shoulder hit me. I resisted it, of course.

And then I realised it was five and had to shake Nathan awake, vaguely remembering that he'd said he had to be at work in three hours, two hours ago. He jumped up, rushing off upstairs, coming down moments later looking like he'd dived into the suit he was wearing (he probably had). Micah and I fussed over him until he was presentable, which I think he might have liked just a bit, and then he had to leave.

"How do you even know Nathan?" I asked Micah once we'd resettled ourselves on the sofa. Yes, I actually asked him that. I think I might have been getting a bit tired and, anyway, Micah's shoulder was taunting me with its unattainable comfortableness. Stupid shoulder.

Micah watched the screen. Gary Sinise (which must make it the New York one, oh goody) was questioning someone. Or giving them cake. I didn't know, I wasn't really paying attention (Ann would have been so ashamed). He shrugged. Micah, I mean, not Gary Sinise. "Well, I do visit here every now and then," he said.

"No, I mean," I said, turning onto my side. "You two seem..." I made a few gestures with my hands, even though they never seem to convey what I want them to. "...so friendly like."

Micah gave me a funny look. "And we're meant to be unfriendly like?"

He laughed when I glared at him. "Well, I guess..." He gazed at the screen for awhile. "He misses his kids. He'd never admit it, of course. I guess I'm just a substitute, a surrogate son, whatever. And he feels sorry for me since my Mom and Dad are, you know, dead." He smiled at me. "Does that answer your question?"

I shook my head. "No." I paused. "Well, somewhat."

He raised an eyebrow at me. "Oh? Somewhat?" He threw a cushion at me. Seriously, what is it with people and throwing cushions at me? Am I some sort of cushion magnet?

"Stop it," I said, frowning. We looked at each other, then promptly burst out laughing. I thumped him with the cushion. He tried to look hurt but only succeeded for about five seconds before dissolving into more laughter.

"What are you guys laughing at?" a sleepy voice said, coming from the door. We glanced up and saw Elle, rubbing sleep from her eyes and looking much better than she had yesterday. Her gaze went to the screen. She snorted. "Okay, that is pretty funny."

I looked at the screen just in time to see some guy running down an alleyway. He looked behind him just once and then smacked into a dumpster. Heh, I didn't remember the episode but Elle had a point.

Elle, Micah and I watched reruns until about ten in the morning (which was when the Miami one came on, Elle switching it off in disgust almost immediately, I knew there was another reason I liked her). By that time Mr. Bennet and the Devourer had joined us.

Micah snatched the remote from Elle and turned the TV onto some sports channel. Elle and I left, disgusted with their overall maleness. But at least she now had time to show me all the pictures she'd taken while I was fast asleep. She told me Matt was going to take her out later to get them developed.

"Does he know what he's getting himself into?" I said, a bit worried. "I mean, he _does _know they'll kill him, right?"

She waved her hand vaguely. "Oh, please! Like they can do anything!" She made a noise that sounded a lot like _pffle_.

"Well, one of them's an empathic sponge and the other's a super powered serial killer," I replied, trying to make her understand. "If that's not enough to worry him, I think he needs to get his head checked."

"That's _ex_-serial killer, thank you very much," a voice said from the door way. We looked up and found Peter and Sylar grinning at us. We were in the kitchen, eating leftover brownies and whatever else we could salvage from the pantry (not much), because it was the only room in the house we found we _couldn't _hear Micah and Mr. Bennet whooping at the screen, the Devourer's sniggers in the background.

"And what are you talking about anyway?" Sylar continued, grabbing the last brownies before I could stop him. He munched on it as I glared at him.

"Nothing," Elle said, looking as innocent as the clear, blue sky.

Peter narrowed his eyes. Elle's expression, if it was at all possible, became even more innocent. Then we all turned as Noah began to wail upstairs. Elle rushed off to comfort him, feed him, do the things mothers do, I don't know, I'm not a mother.

Then Peter turned his narrowed, suspicious eyes on me. I gulped.

"Rebecca, what aren't you telling me?" he said and I knew I wasn't the only one who found his tone incredibly hot. Sylar was watching him. Another brownie – if there'd been one, which obviously there wasn't because he'd eaten _the last one_, the greedy bugger – would have done nothing for the hunger in his eyes.

If Peter hadn't been giving me the Evil Eye, I would seriously have been in heaven.

"Peter, stop picking on Rebecca," Matt said mildly as he entered the kitchen, followed almost immediately by Mohinder (who wasn't wearing a shirt...just thought I should mention that). Matt smirked at me. "It really is nothing. And your tone is doing nothing good to her head."

Peter gave me one last glimpse of the Evil Eye and then turned away, but not before whispering, "I hope she burnt those pictures or otherwise..." He bunched his hands into fist and they glowed for a minute. I gulped.

About then Sylar dragged him away. I heard Peter bang his knees on the stairs.

"So, Rebecca, since I'm already going out today, is there anywhere you'd like to go?" Matt asked, bringing my attention back to him and (shirtless) Mohinder.

I smiled and shook my head. "Not really. Just..." I paused. "Just...get me some of those pictures, will you?"

Matt grinned and said, "Oh, you're a bad one, Rebecca McKenzie."

I blinked. "Did you just...?"

"Deliberately mangle a quote from _Torchwood_?" Matt replied. "Yeah, I did."

If I was prone to swooning like those knights from _Le Morte Darthur_ I would have done so. As it is I was thankful for the very solid bench I was sitting on.

"Now," Matt said, rubbing his hands together. "As it seems the Devourer is not up to making pancakes today I guess I will be the one doing the cooking."

Mohinder groaned at that. I blinked. Again. "Does everyone know he's the Devourer?" I whined just a little.

"Well, what did you expect?" Mohinder said, obviously relieved when Matt reached for the phone instead of some cooking utensil. "He can read minds. And we're not totally stupid, as you've probably been led to believe."

"I guess that makes sense," I said. Who am I kidding? Of course it did.

While Matt and Mohinder were out picking up breakfast (the place didn't deliver, much to their consternation, even when Matt tried to whammy them with his mojo...god, that sounded better in my head), I wandered around the house.

I wondered what Milady was up to, if she was terribly pissed. Probably. I tried to imagine her conked out on a sofa, eating ice cream and watching daytime soaps like _The Young and the Restless _but couldn't. Probably because I couldn't imagine _Ann _doing that, let alone someone who looked like her. I mean, Ann can wallow in self pity with the best of them but...daytime soaps? Just...no.

This inevitably led me down a path of moping, mostly because there was nothing else to do but also because it sort of hit me then that I might never see my family again, might never hear my musical genius of a brother strum rather annoyingly at his guitar, might never be able to gush to my sister about last night's episode of _Bones _or _NCIS_, might never listen to my Dad moan about his job to the only people who would really listen and complain right along with him (namely, us).

All a bit depressing really. Thankfully the doorbell rang just as I was settling in for a nice wallow. I frowned a little, my thoughts immediately distracted. I opened the door, my mouth dropping open when I saw who it was.

"Ah, Ms. McKenzie," Hiro said, smiling at me. "I was hoping you'd still be here."

And with that he grasped my elbow and dragged me all the way out to a waiting limousine, which he pushed me into. Gently, but still.

As I opened my mouth (or at least began to form words, since my mouth hadn't closed since I first saw him) to speak, he shuffled himself until he was sitting comfortable across from me. "I'm sorry for the inconvenience but Mr. Masahashi would like a word."

I closed my mouth abruptly. I knew a grin was plastered over my face and I couldn't help silently crowing, _Ha, Ann is going to be _so _jealous!_

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

**...and you will have to wait until the next chapter to meet Ando, ha. **

**Review please. **


	16. How People Threw Riddles at Me

**Chapter Sixteen: How People Threw Riddles at Me and I was Very Confused**

**Author's Note: I know, it's been awhile. I just finished two weeks delightful holiday so...yeah. Hope you enjoy. **

**Disclaimer: *gasp* I do not own Heroes. Shock me some more, it feels nice *cough***

__________________________________________________________________________________

The limousine eventually stopped in front of a huge skyscraper. Lots of glass. Definitely not a good place to be if there was an earthquake. I followed Hiro inside and, uh, _wow. _Just...wow. Did I mention the wow? Because, seriously fancy digs...and I will never say that again.

I smiled at the secretary we walked past, and she smiled back, if you call quirking the corner of your mouth up for a second a smile, which I do. Hey, I have to take what I can get. People just don't smile enough anymore. Maybe it takes people a while to realise I am, in fact, smiling, and not giving them a lopsided grimace? Eek, that's a depressing thought.

Anyway, we spent about ten seconds in an elevator, where I heard rather pretty elevator music. Otherwise, it was a bit boring. Thank the gods it only lasted for ten seconds.

The doors opened with a _ding_ sound (very cool, and yes, it was sad that I found the sound of an elevator opening cool). Again with the wow. I wondered if there was any such thing as the Wow Police because, seriously, the place needed to be slapped with a life sentence before it blinded people with its wow. To be a little more specific, apparently Ando's office was an entire floor. Is this common among right hand men of potentially end-of-the-world-causers? I don't know. Although if I was one of them, I'd definitely be having what he's having. Wink, wink.

A man in a suit was sitting at a desk across the room. He stood up and made his way over to us. Eventually I realised he was Ando. A bit older, a bit thinner, but still Ando. I couldn't help grinning. He gave me slightly confused look but grinned back nonetheless. No wonder my sister is a little bit in love with him.

"Miss McKenzie, how delightful," he said. Hopefully he was telling the truth. Oh, to be a human lie detector. I hear there are tickles involved.

"Hey," I said, sounding dazed. My wit shows itself again, I see.

He directed me towards the seat directly across from his. I sat down, as one does when one is shown a chair (unless one is a lion or tiger at a circus, and then apparently one growls at it, because getting a chair shoved in one's face is not good manners at all).

There was silence. You know, I'm starting to sense a pattern here. I heard Hiro behind me, doing something or other, and then realised what he was doing when he offered me a cup of..._hot chocolate_? It was like they knew me. I may have gushed a little, or at the very least given him a dopey puppy dog look. Anyway, I sipped at the hot chocolate and waited for Ando to speak.

For a long moment (in which I came to the happy conclusion that Hiro can make one mean hot chocolate), he just stared at me. It was a little uncomfortable, although the hot chocolate was a little distracting so the overall discomfort (if that was what he was going for) was lost on me.

Eventually he spoke. "Milady is not happy with you." He stated it as though it was a proven scientific fact. Maybe it was. "You shouldn't have taken the Devourer with you."

Okay, now I was uncomfortable. An example of my stupidity rears its ugly head, looking almost identical to the guy on that Hell Pizza sign. Scary. "Well, um, see, about that," I began, because I never said I wasn't a coward.

Ando waved a hand and I stopped speaking abruptly. He smiled. Oh dear. He should _so _do that more often. "Oh, I'm not saying this is an entirely bad thing," he said. "Just that you might want to think a bit before you do anything rash." A good piece of advice. But would I actually follow it? That is the question.

He steepled his fingers and looked at me over them. Again with the staring and the silence. If this was some kind of test, I wish someone had told me beforehand.

He stood up abruptly and, after a moment of yet more staring and silence, I stood up as well. "I have something to show you," he told me, beckoning me to follow him through a door situated behind him. Lord, he was really distracting, I didn't even notice it was back there.

I felt Hiro follow us as we walked down a rather narrow corridor until we reached another door. Very normal door, almost hit me over the head with its utter normalcy. In fact, it kind of reminded me of that door which had led me to the Devourer's prison cell. If I had enough time I would start a list and one of my rules would be: Never Trust A Normal Door.

The room that the suspiciously normal door led to was small. Seriously there was only enough space for us and, well, a mirror. It didn't look like any mirror I'd ever seen. The surface didn't even look as though it was made of glass, unless there was some sort of glass out there that not only resembled but practically was gray fog. It even seemed to be swirling.

Apparently this was what Ando had meant to show me because he and Hiro chose that moment to leave, closing the door behind them. I rattled the doorknob but they'd locked it. I looked at the mirror out of the corner of my eye. It continued to swirl with gray fog. I waited a few minutes, eventually relaxing.

Okay, locked in a room with a strange mirror. I could deal with that. I gazed at the mirror. Maybe they'd found someone who was really good at making glass do weird and wonderful things. That makes a kind of sense, although why they'd leave me alone in a room with it, I have no clue. Wait. Was this some sort of overt hint? I narrowed my eyes and marched towards it.

I gazed into its foggy depths and some girl gazed back. She certainly wasn't me. Thinner, for one thing. Pretty, almost ethereal. Long brown hair, doe eyes. I squinted at her. She seemed somehow familiar...

Abruptly she burst out laughing. Seriously, I must be some sort of unintentional comedian; people laugh at me all the time. "God, I can't keep this up any longer," she gasped. She took out what appeared to be a handkerchief and wiped at her eyes.

My eyes widened and I felt my mouth fall open. It couldn't be. How had she come to be in the mirror in the first place? And, second of all, this wasn't a fairytale.

"Have you finally figured out who I am?" she asked and went on, without waiting for an answer, "Molly Walker, at your service." She curtseyed with a definite flourish.

Molly Walker. Dear lord, the last time I'd seen her, Mohinder had sent her away...to some unknown location. Either that or I couldn't remember. I wouldn't put it past me.

"Uh," I managed to say cleverly. She smirked. "Why are you in a mirror?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Why? Shouldn't the question be how? And also why there's even a mirror like this in the first place?"

"Well, I thought about asking that," I replied. "But then I realised I probably wouldn't understand anything you said."

She laughed at that. "Oh, they were right about you!"

I frowned. "Who?"

She held out a hand and I watched, wide eyed, as it came out of the mirror. "I'll show you." It was small and pretty, a real girl's hand.

I grasped it immediately and she yanked me through the glass. I thought it would feel like walking through liquid but as it turns out walking through glass is exactly that. It hurt. I felt as though I was being given thousands of very deep paper cuts. It seemed to go on indefinitely but apparently indefinitely doesn't mean as much as it used to since it ended abruptly what felt like hours, years, eons later.

I gasped, remembering Ando's advice of - what was it? – five, ten minutes ago. I really don't think before I act. I glanced around and found myself in that same gray fog I had seen in the mirror. It curled around me, wispy and faint. It felt pretty nice, actually. I smiled dreamily...and then realised I was alone. I hit reality with an oomph. That fog obviously dampened sound. Any other time it would have been a bang.

"Hello?" I said. No answer. Dammit. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I cursed for a few minutes, trying to think of newer and better words, realising half way through that I was woefully unprepared for the task.

Someone laughed, making me look up. I think I would have been happy if it had been a Wraith, like the ones in Stargate Atlantis, even Arthur Petrelli would have earned himself a hug just by making an appearance. Happily it was neither.

Draco smirked, moving towards me through the fog. He seemed very graceful. I wondered if the fog made him like that, or if it was just him. Knowing my luck, it was probably just him. "Oh, it's you," I said, trying to pretend I wasn't out of my mind with relief at the sight of him.

"Yes, it's me," he said, still smirking. I glanced behind him and saw Morgan. Well, that was nice. At least he wouldn't smirk at me. Hopefully.

"Hey, wait." I frowned. "If we could have met this way, why did I have to go through having my stomach punched in?"

"I'm afraid that we had nothing to do with that," Morgan replied. "You arrived there all on your own. A somewhat fortunate accident." Oh yes, thank you for rubbing it in that it was all my fault. Thank you. Like I didn't already know that. And what did he mean, fortunate? Obviously he had never had his stomach punched in by an angry ser – sorry – _ex_-serial killer.

"Well?" I decided to cut to the chase. No, we weren't suddenly transported to a race track where I chased them around in a car, accompanied by some angry dog. "Why am I here then?" Yes, that's what I meant.

Morgan sighed, almost sadly, and opened his mouth to say something only to be interrupted by Draco. "You've met him, haven't you?" he asked, almost sneered in fact. I wondered what I'd done to make him like that.

"Uh, who?" Because I am slow sometimes.

"The Devourer," Draco said, sounding frustrated. Did he have to look quite so adorable when he was frustrated? I'm sure there are plenty of people out there who would prefer _that _ability to, say, telepathy. "You've met him." His sneer became even more pronounced. "And you _like _him."

"What?! I do not!" I blinked. "Okay, so, I liked his pancakes..."

"Figures," Draco muttered. "They always like the pancakes."

I ignored him. "And, you have to admit, those chocolate brownies were heaven..."

"Ah-ha!" he exclaimed. "He baked them, did he? Well, now."

Okay, I was confused. What did the Devourer and his ability to cook amazing things have to do with any of this? Surprisingly, I said so.

Morgan was the one to answer. "The Devourer...well, he has the ability to charm and manipulate..." He looked almost uncomfortable.

"Oh god," I whispered. "He didn't...do something to the food, did he?" I gazed at them, waiting. Please, please, say no. If the answer was yes, I would hate the Devourer forever. No one ruins food for me. _No one. _

I breathed a sigh of relief when Morgan shook his head. Draco seemed to be having some sort of fit nearby. After closer inspection I realised he was doubled over, laughing his ass off. Bastard.

I sniffed. "Okay, so, I still don't see what this has to do with me being here." Better to just ignore him.

"The Ritual of the Blood is approaching," Morgan said, as he waited for Draco to collect himself. "You must prepare yourself for the coming ordeal."

"Yeah," I began, hoping they would clarify themselves. I have never understood these people and their constant need for riddles. Seriously, if they wanted to help, wouldn't it be far simpler to just say what they mean? It would save a lot of trouble.

Draco interrupted me. He was no longer laughing. "The knife moved and the blood ran down, down, down. A word spoken, a promise broken. Love, the ever conquering hero."

"All as it is and all as it should be," Morgan continued as the wind picked up. "Change the world, a dream is a wish your heart makes. Change the world, it collapses and destroys itself."

My hair whipped into my face, blinding me. When I'd managed to tame it somewhat, they'd disappeared.

Okay, let me just say: What. The. Fuck.

"Guys?" I asked the empty air. "Hey, guys?" I sighed. I might have possibly stamped my foot a little. But only a little. "You know, that wasn't at all helpful!" I yelled.

Silence. Obviously they weren't listening.

"A dream is a wish your heart makes, ha," I muttered, stepping back. I found myself back in that tiny room instantly, blinking in shock. O...kay.

The door opened behind me and I turned to find Hiro standing there, smiling. I glared at him, on principle. I stamped past him and he closed the door behind me, following me silently as I made my way through Ando's very large (still very cool) office and onto the elevator.

"Do you have a clue what's going on?" I asked him eventually. I ran fingers through my hair, trying to tidy it up. Eventually I got it to a level resembling normalcy.

Hiro smiled kindly. "I never have before." He paused. "But I find destiny is not very clear at the best of times."

God, not that destiny shit again. I sighed. Hiro gave me a sympathetic look before we stepped out of the elevator. He ushered me past the secretary, who gave me a weird look, and into the limousine waiting outside. It was the same limousine, I think. I wondered how long I'd been in that room.

I arrived back at the Petrelli mansion to find the place eerily deserted. Seriously, I opened the door, said "Hello?" into the stillness, and waited. Nothing.

Then, suddenly, something. Everyone seemed to appear at once. I was engulfed by a pair of arms and squished into something that smelled very nice indeed. I patted whoever it was awkwardly on the back. "It's okay," I said, my voice muffled.

"God, Sylar, let the girl breath," I heard Matt say and then suddenly air! Blessed air! I took in a few extra gulps just in case.

"Sorry," Sylar muttered, looking very embarrassed. I was obviously still confused by those goddamned riddles, or in shock, because under normal circumstances I'd probably be dreamland already. Instead I just stood there as Sylar continued muttering. "You and the Devourer had both disappeared and I thought..." He shrugged.

"Okay," I said, trying to get my bearings. "Well, Hiro took me to see Ando so..."

Oops, wrong thing to say. "I'm going to kill that man," Sylar growled, heading to the door immediately. Peter grabbed his arm.

"Gabriel," he said, and that appeared to calm him down enough so that he stopped muttering about rather ingenious ways to kill Ando under his breath.

My brain registered the rest of what Sylar had said. "Wait. The Devourer's disappeared?"

"Hey, guys!" Elle bounded down the stairs, a piece of paper flapping in her hands. "I found this!" She stopped when she saw me. "Hey, Becky." She greeted me as though she hadn't been worried sick while I was supposedly missing. I smiled.

Matt frowned and took the piece of paper from her. His eyebrows rose significantly as he read what was apparently written on it. Glancing up, he walked over and handed it to me. "It's from the Devourer," he said as I gazed at it, confused. "Addressed to you."

I frowned and opened it. I almost expected it to say, "So long, suckers!" I wouldn't have put it past him. Instead it said (in very pretty handwriting too): "See you soon, my darling Sacrifice."

Ew.

I screwed it up and threw it over my shoulder. "Well, now that that's taken care of," I said brightly. "Who's hungry?"

____________________________________________________________________________

**...and then cookies showered down on me and I was content!**

***waits***

**Oh, I thought saying it would make it real *sad sigh***

**Anyway, review please. **


End file.
